


i see my reflection in your eyes

by The_Black_Cat, wonderwall_mp4



Category: Charmed (TV 2018)
Genre: Abimel, Character Study, F/F, Morality Flip, OverWitch - Freeform
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-12-07
Updated: 2020-12-07
Packaged: 2021-03-10 00:41:10
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 25,224
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/27925444
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/The_Black_Cat/pseuds/The_Black_Cat, https://archiveofourown.org/users/wonderwall_mp4/pseuds/wonderwall_mp4
Summary: it's been a year since the faction has been defeated. everyone has found their purposes, and mel's happen to be the responsibilities that were supposed be her sisters' as well. abigael steps in to help and ends up with more than she bargained for.or, mel is just fine with responsibility, until it starts to crush her. abigael is just fine with mel being the most irritatingly moral person ever, until it ruins both of their lives.
Relationships: Abigael Jameson-Caine/Mel Vera
Comments: 3
Kudos: 54





	i see my reflection in your eyes

**Author's Note:**

> welcome to the party! disclaimer: i (jordy) may be posting this on my account, but my lovely co-author, cat, wrote just as much of it as me, if not more. we'll definitely be writing more things together in the future, so keep on the lookout!

The Vera Mansion was full. Not with people, no, there was only one of those, but otherwise, it was filled to the brim. With sound that was anywhere between sizzling of onions frying on a buttered-up pan, a slow rock ballad coming from the speaker of a phone, the pitter-patter of bare feet on the hardwood floor, falling of a knife against a cutting board, soft humming along to the tune of the song. But it wasn’t just sound, it was smells, too; the usual lavender and pomegranate of detergent and perfume, mixed with the sweet smell of the onions, the mouthwatering scent of meat that was slowly roasting in a pot with vegetables, completed with the scent of garlic and spice mixed with white yoghurt that was supposed to be cooling off. 

It was nice, Mel mused as she allowed herself to look around once she put the soy slices onto the golden-glazed onions. Calm. No arguing sisters, no Whitelighter that treated the kitchen like a temple and cooking like the holiest of masses, no demons running around trying to kill them, no fathers waking up guardian demons… it was pure peace. 

If only that were really the case. 

Letting out a sigh, Mel allowed herself a moment to shake her tired hands out. She’d had a long day filled with chores and dealing with witches, satyrs, dryads, nymphs, sprites, dragonlings, leprechauns, dwarves, forest elves and one particularly irritating animal spirit that demanded to be addressed as a deity even though it was the one asking for help. 

Just thinking about it was giving her a headache. 

She knew that taking over the role of the Elders would be difficult, she wasn’t stupid enough to kid herself about that, but she thought they could handle it. She  _ knew _ they could handle it, the three of them, together. They’d taken down the Source, the Faction, and even Godric’s demon army. Just them, the three Charmed Ones, their Whitelighter, a very helpful human and a very irritating but still somewhat helpful demon-witch. They could take care of the magical world until a suitable replacement for the Elders was found. 

But when she eagerly agreed to help the magical community, effectively making herself and her sisters the ruling body of the magical world, she forgot to consider that a year after that, her sisters would be knee-deep in working on their own lives, leaving her to deal with everything magical.

Of course, they still helped with defeating demons, and of course, she was grateful for that. She couldn’t do it without them. But sometimes it  _ did _ feel like she was doing it without them. Macy had been running all over the world for a new job, a prestigious position and the first thing she’d really been excited about in a long time, but that meant she was nearly never home. And Maggie had always been a self-declared ‘free spirit’, which turned out to mean she shunned leadership and responsibility. Plus, she had just gone back to school, and Mel didn’t want to put any more pressure on her than she was already under; she could hear the deep sighs Maggie let out while doing homework from anywhere in the house. Harry tried to help out, but his time was taken up trying to figure himself out after upwards of a hundred years of selflessness, whatever that entailed. Jordan was around, but he was in school too, and besides, he was only human, and throat-punching demons could only get you so far. And Abigael was… well, she was Abigael.

While they’d come to respect each other in the time since they defeated Godric and his army of demons, in Macy’s case, care for each other in the case of Maggie, and even enjoy her company more than she probably should in Mel’s case, Abigael was her irritating, sarcastic self, and it got on Mel’s nerves more often than not. She’d gotten better over the past year, softer, of course; but a leopard, especially one who used humor as a coping mechanism, didn’t change its spots. While Mel’d learnt to deal with it, even dishing it out as good as she got it, Abigael could still score some points against her. It made the fact that she actually enjoyed her company even more infuriating.

There used to be times when she enjoyed Abigael’s snark and sarcasm. Only a few months ago, whenever Abigael had shown up, Mel’s heart had started beating faster and she had found almost every remark that had left Abigael’s mouth funny, even the ones about Mel’s sisters. There used to be times when Mel woke up already looking forward to seeing Abigael that day, and when she got disappointed when Abigael hadn’t shown up. That all slowly changed. She still felt that thrill when Abigael was around, she still felt her body and heart respond to hearing Abigael’s voice, to feeling her fleeting touch, to her mere presence. But it was impossible to find her snark funny when Mel had too many responsibilities to deal with, and it would be irresponsible to give into those feelings when she needed to focus her attention on her family and the magical world. Abigael would only be a distraction from her responsibilities.

Huffing, Mel turned her attention back to the meal that was stewing in front of her. She was tired of this. She was tired of what her life had become. Wake up, breakfast, solve problems of every being in the magical community in the US-- and some in Mexico, Puerto Rico and other Spanish-speaking American countries that started contacting her after it somehow got out that she was fluent in Spanish-- get something to eat for lunch, more solving of magical problems, sometimes on especially bad days she’d have to fit in a demon vanquishing or two, clean the house a little, do the laundry, cook before her sisters, Harry and Jordan got home… she had been turned into a proper housewife. 

When did that happen to her? When did she  _ allow _ it to happen? She wanted to help her sisters, she wanted to help the world, she wanted to help in general… it didn’t matter what she thought she was or what some pesky, irritating, sexy British demons thought she was. She was a Charmed One, protector of the innocent, keeper of peace, the voice of reason for all magical folk. She was important. She was in charge. 

Although, she’d never thought that being in charge would feel like being imprisoned in her own life.

It didn’t matter. She was doing it for her sisters. For her family. There was nothing she wouldn’t do for her family, caring for the house and taking on the responsibility for the whole magical world was nothing. She’d take it on again in a heartbeat if it meant her sisters were happy. 

“Oh, thank heavens.” 

Mel whirled in surprise. Abigael, in all her glory, was leaning against the counter. She must have phase-shifted into the kitchen when Mel wasn’t looking. “Just the witch I wanted to see. It’s so dreadfully boring when I don’t have an outlet for my evil genius.” She stole a cherry tomato from the cutting board and popped it into her mouth, promptly spitting it into the trash. “Ugh, I despise tomatoes.”

“Evil, maybe, but genius? You might want to rethink that,” Mel said with a sigh. That’s how it always started. Abigael would show up and open her pretty, big mouth, and that single action would make Mel’s heart beat faster and give her the almost irresistible urge to scream at the same time. She could already feel her body heating up with irritation, and other emotions. “What do you want, Abi?”

“That’s quite a broad question. Right now, I’d settle for some whiskey.” Abigael peered closer in that annoyingly perceptive way of hers. “You seem more tightly wound than usual. A hard day on the job?”

Without even thinking about it, Mel took out a glass from the cupboard and looked up to the shelf where the bottle of whiskey the Veras kept for an occasion precisely as this one resided. However, the bottle was on the upper shelf and not where Mel could reach it. When did Macy put it up there again? Did she not realize the other occupants of the house couldn’t reach there?

Huffing, Mel put the glass down onto the counter and pointed up. “Well, you can get that yourself, I still have a lot of work to do.”

Abigael was tempted to make a short joke, but it was low-hanging fruit. Right where Mel liked it because she could reach. Abigael retrieved the bottle with ease and poured herself a drink. “And that work is what exactly? Saving the world and the known universe a couple more times before supper?”

Saving the world. Yeah. That sounded like something out of a dream right now. 

Shaking her head, Mel turned her attention back to the pots in front of her, not bothering to give Abigael a response. It would only give her more chances to make jabs at Mel and that wasn’t something Mel wanted to deal with. 

For once in her life, Abigael seemed to sense that Mel wasn’t in the mood. There was a fine line between being annoying just for fun and genuinely making Mel angry, hurt, or sad, and Abigael, for all her bravado, very much tried her best not to cross it. She watched as Mel moved from cutting board to the stove to oven and back again, noting the stiff way she walked and the tension in her shoulders. She sighed, already regretting what she was about to say. “All right, tell me what’s going on.”

“Nothing’s going on,” Mel said as she stirred the soy in the pot, scrunching her nose at the smell. She wasn’t sure whether she was trying to convince herself or Abigael with that. “My sisters are living their dream lives and have their dream boyfriends, we are finally rid of demons and humans that wanted to kill us and I am here, cooking. Everything’s just  _ peachy _ !”

Abigael stared at her over her glass of whiskey. “This may come as a shock, but I don’t think I believe you.”

“I wonder why that is,” Mel growled, barely loud enough to be audible. She then turned to face Abigael, trying her hardest not to let her eyes wander down the curve of her neck, onto her collarbone and lower. That was proving to be quite the challenge with the form-fitting black dress Abigael had on, expensive and custom-designed to distract, to be sure, but Mel managed to bring her eyes back to the safe, respectful area of her face after only the shortest of looks. “You didn’t answer me. What do you want?”

“As much as I enjoy winding you up, it’s no fun if you don’t at least  _ try _ and wind back.” Abigael ran her fingers along the counter as she walked closer to Mel. “And this may surprise you, but I actually do care about your well-being. Sometimes. So I want to know what deep, dark secret is on your mind.” 

Mel let out a humourless laugh. “Right. Yeah, that’s…” Huffing again, Mel turned back to the stewing soy in the pot. “My secret is that I have to finish this soy atrocity and then I still have to tweak the garlic dressing, so if you could try and not be irritating, that would be great. You staying for dinner?” 

“Darling, telling me to not be irritating is like trying to convince Cézanne not to paint.” Abigael dipped her finger into the pot and tasted it, despite protests from Mel. “I’m not quite sure any of this is…. shall we say, edible for the civilized lady. Why all the food? Are you planning on feeding an army?”

“Because you’re  _ such _ a civilized lady,” Mel remarked, rolling her eyes almost fondly at Abigael’s antics. Not even to mention the shiver that went down her spine at Abigael calling her  _ darling _ . “Well, Maggie is vegan-ish, so she gets her own meals, and Harry likes less spice in his food than the rest of us; Jordan is allergic to tomatoes, which makes it really difficult to make pretty much any sort of Boricua food, and Macy doesn’t like sweet tastes in her dinner, so I kind of have to make something for everyone…” 

Realizing she was rambling, Mel shook her head and reached for the seasoning, letting her words hang in the air together with Abigael’s pleasant vanilla and spice scent. 

“That seems… quite excessive. In my household, you ate what was given to you, or you were hexed.” Abigael polished off her whiskey glass and set it near the ever-growing pile of dishes in the sink. “Aren’t your sisters capable of cooking for themselves?”

“Macy can’t make frozen pizza without it burning,” Mel said with a fond chuckle, remembering how her older sister had offered to help Harry with breakfast only for him to banish her from the stove not half a minute later for messing with the eggs he was cooking. “She likes baking ‘cause it’s a science, but cooking is an art and I’m convinced she was born without a right brain. And Maggie doesn’t have the time, with her school and all. She’d fill herself with carbs if I left her alone. Besides, if I’m already cooking, it makes sense I cook for everyone. It’s not a big deal. It gives them time to do what they love to do. Are you staying or not?”

Abigael would rather be vanquished than admit she had nothing better to do, so she said nonchalantly, “I suppose I could stick around for family supper. That stew smells passable.”

“Great, you can help me set the table. The dishes are over there,” Mel pointed to one of the cupboards before shifting her attention back to the task at hand, muttering: “How can she eat soy, anyway? It’s not like it tastes good…”

“Set the table?” Abigael gasped, in extreme affront. “Who am I, your maid?” Giving her a sideways glance from the corner of her eye, Mel pressed her lips into a thin line. Abigael stared back, a look of overdramatic offense on her face.

Mel’s hold on the handle of the pot got so strong that her knuckles turned white and the water started boiling instead of simmering. Abigael was just doing what she did best and bothering her. She was joking around. She didn’t mean to upset her. But the joke had struck a chord. She bit her tongue to keep herself quiet. She wasn’t angry, she was okay with this, she was doing it for her family. 

It seemed that tonight was the night when that mantra, so often repeated, stopped working. 

“No!” she said, her voice little more than a growl. “You’re not the maid here! I am, apparently! So just sit down, relax, and I’ll pour you another  _ damned _ glass of whiskey while cooking these ridiculous  _ damned _ meals for my family who don’t give a... a damn! And after that, why don’t I make up my bed for you? I won’t use it, anyway, no, I’ll be up until three or four in the morning, trying to get vampires to allow werewolves onto their territory! And why don’t I make you breakfast tomorrow morning, too? What would you like? French toast? Omelette? Place your order, what’s one more damned meal to make?” 

“Look at you, Angry Spice,” said Abigael triumphantly. “I knew there was more than you were letting on.” Mel glared at her. “Well, don’t stop on my account.”

“You want to know what’s really wrong? Fine!” Mel growled, frown firmly in place. She let go of the pot and started pacing, each time getting closer and closer to where Abigael was standing. “What’s wrong is that my sisters think I can do everything on my own! And I  _ can _ , I’ve been doing everything on my own for months! They’ve just-- they’ve just started living their own lives! Screw magic, screw being the Charmed Ones, screw any sort of responsibility! It doesn’t matter when you can study genetics! And I want to be happy for them, I really do, but they just… Argh! Macy has her job, Maggie has school, but besides that? They do nothing! Nothing! Do you know what I have to do? Do you have any idea what I go through every damned day?”

Mel stomped her foot, not letting Abigael answer. “You don’t! You don’t, and neither do they! I can take it! I wanted to be in charge! I’m the leader, I’m the big sister, I have to take care of everything! And since Macy has that fancy job at that fancy lab of hers and Maggie has school, and I only work the off shift at the bar down the street, who better to take care of every single chore in the house than me? Because I can take it! Because I don’t work as hard as they do, I just talk to magical creatures all day, how hard can that be? It’s pretty freaking hard! I barely sleep for three hours a day! And do they care? Of course not! Nobody cares!”

Mel stopped in her pacing, just a few inches away from Abigael. She jabbed her point finger at her, almost touching the fabric of Abigael’s dress. “And then you come in here, riling me up because you have nothing better to do, because you have  _ no one _ but me, because it’s fun! Well, guess what, it’s not fun when I haven’t slept at all last night because I stayed up, pairing up socks! That’s what’s wrong! That’s how I really feel!” 

Abigael wasn’t sure how to react to Mel’s sudden outburst, or the fact that Mel was so close to her, eyes flashing, mouth set, nearly shaking from rage and from exhaustion, too. She knew that Mel tended to shoulder a lot of responsibility, but she hadn’t thought her to be the type to bottle up so much emotion. She was always so passionate. Although, she supposed Mel did tend to stay quiet about things that bothered her on a deeper level. Plus, the line about her having no one but Mel was hurtful, but it wasn’t necessarily untrue. Abigael didn’t think that any of the anger was actually directed at her, and besides, she was used to being a punching bag. At least Mel wasn’t doing it on purpose. 

She raised an eyebrow. “To be honest with you, when I asked what was wrong, I didn’t expect this. But it makes perfect sense. You’re Little Miss Perfect all the time. It’s a wonder you haven’t burst into flames from all of this stress.” She tried for a companionable wink, not sure if it would go over well with Mel, who was still breathing hard like she’d just run a great distance. “While therapeutic, turning into a fireball when vexed is murder on the wardrobe.”

“Glad you’re having fun,” Mel grumbled before stepping away. She took a deep breath, then another. This wasn’t the time. Her sisters would be home soon enough and she couldn’t look like she’d just lost it. She shouldn’t have let herself go like that. She was a Charmed One, the leader of the magical world. She was supposed to be strong, powerful, responsible. 

Shaking her head, Mel returned to the pot where the soy slices were already catching to the bottom of the pan. She quickly stirred it, trying to salvage as much as she could, muttering a soft “damn it!” every few seconds. 

Abigael opened her mouth to utter something else, maybe a jab at Mel’s cooking skills or a joke about how cute she was when she was angry, then thought better of it and quietly snuck into the dining room to set six places. Mel was drowning, Abigael realized as she placed chipped plates in front of each of the chairs. She never had time for any fun. She didn’t have time for a night out, or a midday nap, or a sex marathon, or a film, or a walk in the park; all of the little things that made life enjoyable. Mel’s problem was too much responsibility, and that she loved her family too much to make them share it. Of course, once Abigael puzzled this out, she realized that she should have known this already. Mel was criminally mature, a goody-two-shoes, a caretaker and a big sister by nature, and it would take a miracle for her to give that up.

Suddenly, Abigael had an idea. She remembered a tincture in her mum’s potion book, a sort of remastering of the Hurt Blocker spell. She didn’t remember the specifics, but she knew it absolved you of any single sense or feeling, in Mel’s case responsibility, which seemed like exactly what Mel needed. The only question was of how she’d get Mel to try it.

She sidled back into the kitchen. Mel had mostly collected herself, but a few stray locks of hair had come loose from her bun and fell in her face as she stirred the stew. Abigael shoved down the urge to come up behind Mel and tuck them gently behind her ears, knowing that she probably wouldn’t appreciate that. Abigael really wasn’t in the mood to get smacked with the wooden spoon.

“Another late night tonight?” Abigael asked cautiously, trying to avoid any repeat of what had just happened. 

Mel grumbled but didn’t explode. “Well, yeah, the bathrooms aren’t gonna clean themselves. And a few satyrs in Boston want me to settle this dispute over a collectable Miku doll, and-” She stopped when she saw Abigael start pouring coffee beans into their decrepit coffee pot. “What are you doing?”

“I’m learning the tango for one,” Abigael said sarcastically. “What does it look like I’m doing?”

“But you don’t like coffee... are you making that for me?” asked Mel, a little bit choked up. It was completely stupid, she knew, but it had been so long since someone had done something for her, and Abigael wasn’t really the most selfless person around. She just looked so earnest and so…  _ Abigael _ , standing there in that stupid sexy black dress, with her stupid hair fluffed up on the side like it always was after phase-shifting, holding Harry’s stupid #1 Dad mug.

The coffee pot began to whir. “Don’t go soft on me,” pleaded Abigael. Mel’s eyes started to glimmer. “Oh, no, no, don’t do that face. It’s not a problem, really.”

Mel cleared her throat and turned back to her stew. “Thanks. Thank you, Abi, that’s nice of you.” 

“Yes, well. You know me. Nicest demon ever.” Abigael watched Mel stir. “Would you perhaps… like to borrow my potion book?” she hedged. “There are some stress relief recipes in there that may be of use to you, I’m sure.”

Mel glanced up. “Your mother’s potion book? I couldn’t.”

“Nonsense, it’s no trouble. If you burn up from stress, who will I annoy?” joked Abigael. “And without you around as a buffer, Macy might vanquish me just for fun.”

“Like you’d ever let her do that,” Mel remarked. 

“She’d try, I mean. I believe there’s some variation of the Hurt Blocker spell that might help you take a little break…”

“Hurt Blocker? No, I-” she sniffed the air around them, frowning. “Do you smell something burning?”

She didn’t need Abigael’s response to realize that fire was beginning to catch: the soy in the pot that she had been determined to make perfect for Maggie before Abigael had shown up, the walking distraction that she was. 

“Damn it!” she hissed, instantly moving to cool the pot down a little. She started stirring the contents furiously, trying to evaluate the damage on the food. It wasn’t too bad, but now the whole meal was going to taste a little funny, she was sure. She let out a sigh. “Thanks for the offer, and the company, and for the coffee. But I-- I can’t take a break. My sisters depend on me to do this for them, and I do have the responsibility to take care of the magical world. I am one of the Charmed Ones, I have to do this.”

She took the pot away from the stove and added in some more seasoning. She’d have to make the vegetables in a different pot. Or maybe she could serve them fresh, Maggie might like that. “Besides, I can’t just use a spell to take my emotions away! Maggie did that once and it was… honestly, her losing her powers for a bit was the least bad thing in that whole situation. She was like a robot, just existing, not experiencing anything… And there are the personal gain consequences to think of, too. Good witches can’t use their magic to give themselves a boost of any kind, you know? It could get nasty. Karma and all of that.”

“Good witches,” muttered Abigael. She’d heard that line out of Mel before. She’d learnt to steer away from her whole  _ morals are child’s play, an attempt to bestow some sort of false sense of order on an arbitrary universe  _ spiel, since Mel treasured her morals very highly and Abigael didn’t want to take that from her. But, by all hells, she was growing weary of it. “Of course, I’d expect nothing less.”

“Hey,” Mel warned, jabbed a finger in Abigael’s direction. “You’re one of the good witches, now, too! Or, well, not-evil witches.”

“If being a good witch means not caring a lick about your own well-being, I think I’ll pass,” said Abigael, crossing her arms. The coffee pot began to let out a shrieking noise. “Martyring yourself for something like this? It does the magical world no good if you work yourself half to death.” She raised a hand and her potion book appeared out of smoke from the ether. A flashy trick, but a useful one. “Consider it.” She lowered her voice. She knew Mel couldn’t resist her when she put on the soft tone. “For me?”

Mel’s breath caught in her throat at the way Abigael’s voice sounded and at how her eyes darkened just a little. She noticed that there were spots of light gold in Abigael’s green eyes. They looked beautiful, she found herself thinking. But she shouldn’t. She had too many things to do to just let herself think about how pretty Abigael’s eyes were. Besides, Macy would kill her if she went and started gushing about her strangely considerate demon-witch companion instead of finishing the food. She could do that on her own time.

Shaking herself out of her stupor, she let out the breath that was caught in her throat. “You’re not going to stop pestering me about it until I hear you out, huh?”

“You know me so well.” Abigael flipped open the book and found the page she was thinking of. “Concealment,” she read. “ _ Cor moribus in occultis nudavit _ . Bare the heart, conceal the emotion. A modification of the Hurt Blocker spell. The best part is that it takes away only one emotion or sense, based on which ingredients you use. You could use it to take away your sense of responsibility. It’s fairly simple, any skilled potioneer could whip this up in a matter of minutes.”

“Conceal responsibility? I thought you said this was a stress-relief spell!”

“Your overwhelming sense of responsibility and your bloody morals are what stresses you out, and frankly, they’re no picnic for me either.” Abigael meant that in a joking manner, but she suddenly realized that she might have stepped over the line once again.

“Oh. Oh, I get it.” Mel let out a humourless chuckle. “Well, guess what? The world doesn’t revolve around you, and I’m tired of pretending that it does. Being responsible is a good thing sometimes, Abi. Having morals is a  _ good thing _ ! I can tell a good thing from a bad thing and I decide based on that, not just my selfish desires like a… a  _ demon _ !” 

Abigael let out a small, involuntary gasp. She had gotten used to hearing Mel call her a witch, telling her that she was good, that she was more than what the world saw in her. By this point, it was a certainty that Mel believed in her, and Abigael, while she’d never admit to it, often took comfort in knowing that she always had Mel in her corner, even if everything and everyone else fell away. Having her witch confidence that she had worked so hard on building attacked by the same person who had helped her grow it hurt like very few things in her life ever had. “So, I’m a demon now? After all the times you tried to convince me I was a witch?” she asked, voice growing colder with every word.

“You said that demons are cold and selfish by nature. And right now that’s what you are! That’s what you want me to be.”

Abigael’s mouth snapped shut with a quiet ‘clack’ of her teeth. Her heart gave fast, strong pumps of blood, fueling the anger that awoke in her chest. Mel usually had the exact opposite effect on Abigael, but this… this hit too close to home. This was pure rage. All Abigael wanted was the best for Mel. That was all she had  _ ever _ wanted, and she hated that Mel was, quite literally, demonizing her for it. Abigael was done playing nice. She needed to snap Mel out of this.

“Well, these morals of yours are going to get you killed!” she hissed, eyes narrowing. “They are nothing but shackles to you! All you want is to be good and save everyone, oh, Mel the hero, saving kittens stuck in trees and playing maid for her sisters! Always so selfless, always ready to sacrifice herself. And when she has nothing else to sacrifice herself for, she decides to be a servant to everyone in her life! You could have anything you want! You are a strong woman! Where is that strength now? Where is your fire? You’ve given me so many lectures about how I was a strong woman in this very kitchen! And look at you now, nothing but an obedient servant. The Mel I used to know would be disgusted with you.” She slammed the book down on the counter. “I don’t think I’ll be staying for supper after all.” She dissolved into smoke and whipped once around the kitchen before gusting out the side door, nothing but the screaming old coffee pot to prove she’d ever been there in the first place.

Mel was left standing, motionless, helpless in her anger and irritation. How dare Abigael say something about morals? She had none to begin with, as she’d said herself many times. It wasn’t like she knew what she was talking about. Mel didn’t need any stupid tincture or tonic or whatever the hell it was! 

It didn’t matter. Nothing Abigael said mattered. Mel’s morals were flawless and she didn’t want to do anything to jeopardize that. She had too many responsibilities; too many people and creatures depended on her. She couldn’t just take a day to feel unobliged to do anything!

When the front door shut with a bang, Mel jumped. She didn’t realize it was time for her sisters to come home already. She looked at the table, set for them all, ready and perfect. It now had one plate too many. 

Her stomach turned. She couldn’t do this. 

Stomping her feet to try and dampen the whirlwind of emotions in her chest, Mel rushed out of the kitchen, past Maggie who’d just come home, and up the stairs. 

“Hey, Mel! What’s wrong?” she heard Maggie call after her.

“Nothing, I just… I have a lot of work. There’s food in the kitchen!” she called back, using the same excuse she always did when she needed to get away from her sisters, and went straight into her room. 

It was all just a bit too much. 

Stupid Abigael. Who did she think she was? Coming after Mel’s morals like she had any right to! Like she could ever understand...

Mel felt like punching something. Or someone. A very specific someone with pretty, hazel eyes and cute, little button nose. Not hard enough to break anything, just hard enough so that it really, really hurt. So that she’d feel some of the pain that Mel did. Shit, she couldn’t stop thinking about her even when she was angry. Granted, it was Abigael who made her angry in the first place, but still. 

But, it wasn’t really Abigael, was it? This whole thing had been brewing inside of her for weeks, and Abigael just happened to be the one to light the match that set off the explosion. 

That didn’t mean she wasn’t mad at her for saying those things. But she’d said some things back, things that probably hurt her, and...

What was she doing? She still needed to clean the bathrooms, and the satyrs…

But that was the thing. She didn’t  _ want _ to clean the bathrooms. She didn’t want to deal with the satyrs. She was tired of doing everything her sisters didn’t want to do. Macy had a job that was important to her, and all of her chores fell to Mel because they just weren’t as important or enjoyable as the job. Mel could give Maggie a pass, starting university for the second time wasn’t a joke and she needed the time to read and to learn and do her homework. And Mel was okay with that, she understood. But if they each took one thing to do, one thing out of the seemingly endless list of chores Mel had to deal with every day, it would be better. 

Maybe she should tell them. Go to the kitchen right now, and tell them. They were her sisters, they would help. 

But they were her sisters, therefore she  _ should _ be helping them in any way she could. And doing these things for them was helping. Not to mention, they’d already promised to take over some of her responsibilities.

Well, they had, for all of six weeks, then they went back to their own things and the status quo was restored. 

So much for their promises.

Mel clenched her fists. Her feet hurt from all the sharp turns she took, pacing up and down the length of her room. She couldn’t stop. She needed to move or she might spontaneously combust. She had too much energy, too much anger, to just let it go. She needed a new way to manage that. Maybe she should start going for runs? Or she could start working out or training with Jordan. That would take the edge off. Or she could take a relaxing bath once in a while. She could just push Abigael up against a wall and--

“Damn it!” she half growled, half whined. This wasn’t the time to think about Abigael! She needed to get her anger under control. It never helped anyone when she was angry. She’d lost Niko because of it, she’d almost lost Maggie, she’d almost killed Macy, all because she was angry. 

But even if she did find something to do to burn that anger away, she still wouldn’t have the time for it. She had so much to do still, she couldn’t just up and go for a run. 

She’d just have to scrub the toilet extra hard today. 

But she didn’t have to do it, did she? She didn’t really  _ have _ to do anything. If she stopped doing one chore, maybe her sisters would notice and do it themselves, without any confrontation. Not that that was likely, they could argue about anything. And Mel was definitely in no mood to argue. 

Maybe she could hold off the bathroom cleaning until the next day, give herself the night off. Abigael was right, she was stressed. She needed to wind down and sleep. 

But she couldn’t. Even in her pyjamas, huddled under the covers until it was almost too hot to endure, she couldn’t fall asleep. She spent what felt like an eternity rolling around on the mattress, huffing and checking her phone every few moments. She was too restless, too nervous, too angry to sleep. She tried to read at one point, one of the books she used to love when she was still working at the university in Hilltowne, but not even that managed to capture her attention. Her mind kept going back to all the things she still needed to do. She would need to fit the bathroom cleaning in between the meetings she had planned for the next day, which would be tricky. And the satyrs were going to be more than a little unhappy about her brushing them off. Maybe she should change back and deal with them. 

No. She needed her sleep. She needed to recharge and regroup and take care of herself for a bit. 

She hated it when Abigael was right. 

She seemed to be right more often than not these days.

After the third unsuccessful attempt at reading, Mel put the book down with far more force than necessary and an irritated huff. She needed energy, she knew that, so why couldn’t she just forget about everything that still needed to be done and sleep? The pixies-sprites dispute wasn’t important now, that was a matter for tomorrow, so why did she keep thinking about it? 

Her eyes fell onto the familiar little book. Taking away her morals wasn’t going to happen, but maybe she could look into the first alternative. Make it numb the constant nagging in the back of her head that kept telling her that she was responsible, responsible, responsible… maybe she could take it away just for a few hours. 

The house was quiet. Macy, Harry and Maggie were probably already asleep. That was good. She didn’t feel like explaining what she was doing, especially since she herself didn’t really know what it was that she was about to do. 

She walked over to her desk and took the book into her hands. She caressed the leather binding with care, then she opened the book and flipped through the pages. It was familiar to her by now, the black letters on brownish-yellow pages, the scent that rose from it, like old books and ink and just a hint of Abigael. It had become something familiar over the past year, hailing banter and adventure and a weird sort of companionship. Against all odds, she’d begun to enjoy Abigael’s company, and when she didn’t show up on her daily conquest to bug Mel until she laughed, exploded, or both, Mel felt almost empty. Sometimes she thought she’d be completely fine with seeing her every day for the rest of her life.

She closed the book with a clap. She couldn’t think about Abigael, not like that. It wouldn’t lead anywhere. It wasn’t worth it to break her own heart. She’d been telling herself the same thing, over and over again, for nearly a year now.

Shaking her head, she walked out of her room. This wasn’t the time to think about feelings. She had a potion to brew. Even if it didn’t work, she might feel a bit calmer after a few minutes of grinding herbs and watching colourful smoke rise from the cauldron. 

She  _ really _ hated it when Abigael was right. 

\-----------

Abigael poured cream into her tea, then watched glumly as it slowly began to separate and fall to the bottom. She sighed, poured it into the sink, and instead retrieved a whiskey glass.

A spat between herself and Mel shouldn’t have been bothering her so deeply. The two of them fought so often, it was nearly their way of communicating. But something about it was different. Their usual arguments were just actual, intelligent conversation with some lighthearted teasing thrown in. But yesterday, Mel had said some things that had actually hurt. Although, she supposed, she had said some things in the same way. She poured herself a drink and downed it in one solid gulp.

Abigael Jameson-Caine didn’t apologize. She  _ didn’t _ . The thought was absurd. Her personal belief was that everything she did was for good reason, and people could deal with that as they pleased. Admitting she had been wrong? Sometimes, although rarely. But the words  _ I apologize _ didn’t exist in her vocabulary. So why did she feel so much like saying them now?

Maybe she had pushed Mel too hard and broken something in herself as well. That was for certain if she felt the urge to fall to her knees and beg  _ I’m sorry, please forgive me  _ like a dithering schoolchild.

No, that wouldn’t happen. But maybe she could pop in. She was no maid, but neither was Mel, and to be frank, she was bored. After the failure of her life’s ambition to become Overlord, she was still searching for a new passion besides torture. Maybe helping Mel with some magical divorce lawyering would close the unfamiliar, aching pit in her chest.

Abigael chose one of her casual suits and slipped it on. The recent obsession with her looks whenever she saw Mel was a different issue, one that would take too long to get to the root of.

She concentrated and felt herself getting lighter and lighter until she shed her corporeal form and hovered as smoke among the hanging lights of her apartment’s high ceiling. She escaped out of an open window and began the familiar path to Mel’s.

When she arrived in the kitchen, she immediately felt that something was wrong. She materialized quickly and smoothed down her hair, readying herself for a fight, but the room was empty of friend or foe. The dishes from last night’s dinner still sat next to the sink, beginning to congeal, and the floor was unswept. Usually, Mel cleaned the kitchen every morning. Or, at the very least, loaded the dishwasher. Something was wrong if Mel was shirking responsibility like this. Or, perhaps, something was right. Maybe she had finally,  _ finally _ taken a break.

Abigael peered into the hallway, flames dancing around her fingers just in case she was wrong and Mel was in danger. She saw the normal concentration of shoes by the front door, not as neatly lined up as they usually were; Macy’s spare lab coat, which had fallen from its labelled coat hanger; Maggie’s backpack, with books strewn around it from her off-classes. The stairs were covered in random items like boxing gloves, a bundle of sage, scarves, pens and pencils, a couple of spellbooks, and a puddle of oil that filled the stairwell with a lavender fog. Abigael kicked these things out of the way as she slowly ascended.

The house was eerily silent. Harold was somewhere else doing Whitelighter things, presumably, Maggie had an early class, and Macy was working as per usual. The only noise Abigael could detect was an odd scratching sound from the direction of Mel’s room. She lit both of her hands ablaze and crept cautiously closer.

She pushed Mel’s door open with her toe, only to behold something very different about the room: the walls were covered with writings. It was like she had stepped into the cell of a madman who had been alone with his thoughts for much too long. From where she was standing, she could spot a few paragraphs of Woolf’s _ A Room Of One’s Own _ , a scribbled out grocery list, and the word ‘refrigerator’ over and over again at least one hundred times. There was even something that included her name written over the dresser, but before she could get closer, she glimpsed Mel in the corner with a Sharpie.

Abigael wasn’t sure if she was dreaming or not, for this was one of the strangest things she’d ever seen. “What the hell are you doing?” she said.

Mel whirled, then relaxed when she saw it was only Abigael. She raised her marker with a manic smile. “Decorating!”

In a flash, Abigael realized what was going on. “You made the potion, didn’t you?”

“Yes!” Mel hopped up and ran to her, grabbing Abigael’s arm and shaking her. A jolt went through Abigael’s body. “I love it, I love it! Can you believe that I don’t feel like I have to do a single thing? This is so great! I can do what I want, what I’ve always wanted!” She ran to her bed and started jumping up and down on it. The sight made Abigael chuckle. “Did you know I’ve wanted to do this for years?” She panted out in between jumps. “Mom always told me it was for kids. But she never told Maggie to stop.” The bed creaked dangerously. 

“Well, good for you, luv.” Abigael gave herself an imaginary pat on the back. Evil genius indeed. “How about we go work off some of that steam?” Mel in this state was not a common sight, and Abigael wanted to enjoy it while it lasted.

“You’re right!” Mel ran out of the room, throwing her Sharpie behind her. Abigael couldn’t be bothered to run, but she followed her into Maggie’s room and leaned against the wall as Mel started to give hell to Maggie’s punching bag. “She hates it when I touch the punching bag!” she grunted as she swung wildly. “I’m not gonna get my own! We can share this one! I’ve had to share everything always! DEAL WITH IT!” With one more punch, the bag turned to solid ice. She socked it and staggered away, gripping her hand. “Ow. Shit. Stupid bag.” 

Still muttering under her breath, Mel moved her hand with practised ease and made the frozen gym equipment thaw. She punched it once more for good measure, then she turned to Abigael with a gleam in her eyes. 

“What?” Abigael asked, quirking an eyebrow. There were sparks of mischief in Mel’s deep, brown eyes, a sight Abigael had scarcely seen before, and it made the witch-demon's heart beat faster. She was curious about how the potion affected Mel and what she was going to do now that her sense of responsibility was gone. She’d never seen Mel unhinged, at least not like this. Sure, she’d seen her tell her sisters off or beat a demon to a pulp, but she’d always had this sense of purpose about her, the morality that guided her every step and mostly just made Abigael want to hurl. But now, now there was no responsibility, no morality. Now Mel could do whatever she bloody well pleased and she wouldn’t hold back. 

Abigael would be lying if she said she wasn’t excited. 

Mel eyed Abigael up and down, a dangerous grin spreading on her face. “Fight me.”

“Excuse me?”

“Fight me!” Mel repeated with more conviction. “The punching bag is fun and all, but I want a challenge. C’mon.” 

“I don’t think that’s the best idea,” Abigael said.

Mel frowned. “Why?”

“Well, for one, I would destroy you in battle.”

“Wow. Oh, wow.” Mel shook her fist at Abigael in a way that was more joking than serious. “You really are a bitch sometimes.”

“Hey!” Abigael exclaimed.

Mel raised her hands in a gesture of surrender. Somehow Abigael didn’t believe she was actually surrendering. “I can be mean. I’m a bad girl.”

Abigael laughed at that. “Of course, Grumpy. You’re bad.”

“I can be bad. I could totally be bad.” She leaned forward and flicked Abigael’s forehead. “Bad! Chaos!” She flicked Abigael again, this time on the nose.

“Stop that.” Abigael batted her hand away. “Fine. If it means so much to you, I will fight you.”

In an instant, before Abigael could utter a word or ready her powers, Mel had her hands on Abigael’s shoulders and she couldn’t move. The air around her felt solid. The lighthearted, curious feeling that she had was quickly replaced by genuine fear. She’d never felt unsafe around Mel before, but now? She tried to turn into smoke, but she couldn’t, and she struggled, trying to pick her feet up from where they were rooted to the ground. “Let me go!” Then her mouth was encased in ice, and it spread over her whole body. Even her naturally high temperature couldn’t fight off the impending chill, and she couldn’t even shiver as it crept into her bones. “Mmml! Lmmghh! Mmmm!” She tried to summon fire, but she was like a dragon in the Arctic. Flames sputtered and died, yielding to the cold.

“What’s wrong?” Mel asked, voice lower than usual. She shifted a little closer to Abigael, watching her face, seeming to enjoy the panic and uncertainty in her eyes. Those beautiful eyes, so wide and vulnerable, staring back at her… Mel smirked. She liked that look on Abigael. The humility suited her. Leaning in even closer, Mel brushed her fingers against the ice crystallizing on Abigael’s cheek. “Not hot enough for this? Hmm… then again, you’re usually on fire, so this might help you cool down.”

Stepping back, Mel turned to the punching bag, considering leaving Abigael be and getting a workout in. There was too much energy in her body, too much of… something. 

“This is no fun,” Mel whined. “You’re usually fun, why aren’t you fun now? Oh. That’s right. You’re only fun when you can run that pretty mouth of yours. I wonder…” With her head cocked to the side, Mel ran her eyes over Abigael’s face and body. “Shame. I really like you like this, quiet and submissive. But this isn’t as much fun as I wanted it to be, so…” and with a wave of her hand, she thawed the ice around Abigael. 

The second the ice was gone, Abigael began to shiver violently. She let out a noise of disgust and raised her body temperature so high that her suit began to smoke. She felt like she couldn’t ever be fully warm again. “I take it back. You’re pure evil today.” Abigael had thought the potion would simply loosen Mel up, free her of responsibility. Instead, she had turned into a brute with shaky morals, and apparently some sort of dominatrix.

Mel laughed at that, full and free, with her head falling back and her mouth open like she hadn’t in a long time. Even though Abigael was still cold, and she hated being cooped up, it was very difficult to stay mad at Mel when she saw her laughing like that. It made her face scrunch and her eyes sparkle. Abigael still shivered, but she felt a little warmer on the inside.

“You poor demon baby,” Mel cooed through chuckles when she noticed Abigael’s shivers. She walked right into her personal space and wrapped her hands around the witch-demon, heating them and running them up and down Abigael’s back. She nosed at the slender column of Abigael’s neck before breathing out: “Let me warm you up.” 

Abigael felt herself leaning into Mel’s warm touch, ready to let Mel do whatever she wanted with her, but she had to pull herself away when the question came up in her mind of if she’d even remember this the next day. “Mel, I don’t think you’re in the right state of mind for this.” Why did she have to say that? Abigael would never decline a lady. Specifically, Abigael would never,  _ ever _ decline Mel. She couldn’t think of a single time in her life she’d nixed a beautiful girl moving into her personal space, but here she was, backing away. 

“I’ve never been in a better state of mind,” Mel murmured. Without her responsibility, she had no reason to not let her feelings for Abigael take over. She looked into Abigael’s eyes, then down her cute, button nose and lower still, onto those pink, tempting lips. Then her eyes jumped back up, she let her hands fall away from Abigael’s body and she took a few steps back. “But if you want to be a spoilsport, fine. Let’s do something fun, then. Or I’ll go, and you can stay here and be boring with your ideas about what we should and shouldn’t do.” 

“Boring?” gasped Abigael. “How dare you!” She’d never been called boring before in her entire life. She hated that feeling, but she couldn’t help it. She always sought Mel’s praise first, and Mel in this state was dangerous, not only in battle but in how far it seemed she’d push Abigael to get her approval. And like a fool, she gave in; she felt like she had to prove something. “You know what? Let’s go, then. What did you have in mind?”

“Dunno,” Mel shrugged, thinking. “There is this one bar I’ve been wanting to try. And it’s not too far away if you can’t phase-shift us.”

“Unfortunately, my dear, slightly inebriated witch counterpart, I can only phase-shift myself. But we have legs, so we shall walk if that’s where you want to go.” Mel ran from the room, and Abigael followed, muttering under her breath. “Boring… the nerve…”

“C’mon, slowpoke!” Mel yelled from the staircase. “Don’t be a boring she-demon! It’s bad enough that you can’t phase-shift me! And you say you’re powerful!”

“Maybe I don’t like you like this as much as I thought I did,” mumbled Abigael. She knew Mel couldn’t really control what was coming out of her mouth, like someone who was intoxicated, or a loud toddler, but it was still a little bit hurtful.

“What was that? Speak up!” Mel grabbed her purse from where it was lying by the door. “Come on, we don’t have all day! I need a beer.”

That was how Abigael found herself pounding the pavement on a rainy Seattle morning with her best frenemy in tow, who tried to tell every passerby exactly what she thought of them.

“I don’t know why, but I hate your face,” she said casually to a random white man, and to his girlfriend, “You’re cute.” They walked by a man protesting the local Planned Parenthood, and she cried, “YOU’RE THE FUCKING WORST.” Which, to be fair, most likely would have happened without the potion. “Hey, Abi? Do you think there are some strip clubs open now? I kinda wanna go to a strip club. Or to a political rally. I can’t decide.” 

“If that isn’t the most Mel thing I’ve heard you say in a while, I don’t know what is,” said Abigael. “I think we had better stick to the bar, darling.”

“Darling?” Mel quirked an eyebrow. “We should have stayed home if that’s what you wanna call me.” Abigael suppressed an eye-roll. “Oh, fine, the bar it is. I really want that beer. Or rum. Hey, did you know that Puerto Rican rum is one of the best in the world? I wanna go to Puerto Rico. You should learn how to phase-shift me there--” As they rounded the corner, they came across an older man, who was handing out flyers against the womens’ movement. He seemed to be claiming feminism was going to eradicate men altogether. Personally, at times like this, Abigael wished it would. “Oh, shut up! You know nothing about women, you have no right to open your trap about women’s rights! Yes, I’m talking to you, punk!” 

When the man opened his mouth to respond, Mel growled at him and with a flick of her wrist, she turned the saliva in his mouth into ice. He let out a noise like a mouse being stomped on.

“And stay quiet!” Mel yelled at him, adding in a nasty glare. Then she just... started walking again. Like nothing had happened. “The nerve of some people! I really want to go to a rally. Or somewhere. Can we? But I really do want that beer…” 

“I don’t believe there are any on today. But we’ll check around this weekend.” Abigael wondered if she’d still want to go by the weekend, or even after the serum wore off. Silly question. This was Mel they were talking about.

Mel pouted for a few moments, glaring at random people they passed. “People are weird. I wanna slap them. Can we slap them? Oh, he definitely deserves a good slap. And he! And she, too! Oh, here we are!”

Mel stopped in front of a metal door that was almost invisible under a sea of various stickers and graffiti. The sharp smell of cigarettes and the sweet smell of weed hung around the door, mixed with the weaker scent of alcohol. When Mel pulled the door open, the beat and guitars of punk music filled the air, muffled by the distance and another pair of doors at the end of the hall. 

“Ooh, jackpot! I knew there was a reason I wanted to come here!” Mel almost squealed with excitement. She didn’t even look back, she just reached out blindly, grasped Abigael’s hand and pulled her in. 

She grinned the whole way down the hall, through a door, down a staircase, through another hall where they passed a few couples making out and some dudes smoking, and then they were in the actual bar. It was a pretty big place, big enough to hold small concerts. There were a few people there, huddled together in groups, talking, laughing, a few were playing air hockey in the corner. Everyone was dressed similarly, in band t-shirts, thick, dark-coloured pants, most of them had differently coloured hair in the strangest hairstyles. 

Punks, rockers, metalheads, weedheads. Mel’s shoulders relaxed. These people didn’t care who sat at the table next to them, there was no need to bother about how she looked, talked or sat. Not that she cared now, anyway. 

She pulled Abigael along and towards the bar, where she waved down a bartender. She was a pretty little thing, with violet-coloured hair and eyes of vibrant blue, with just a hint of freckles on her pale skin. She saw the blatant way Mel was checking her out and returned the gesture with a confident smirk. 

“Hey, babe. Never seen you before. What can I get you, besides my number?” 

Jealousy bubbled in Abigael’s stomach. “Alright, enough of that.” Abigael gave Mel a gentle push, and she fell giggling into a seat. “A beer for her and a finger of your best whiskey for me.” The bartender kept staring at Mel, and Abigael made a shooing gesture. “Go on.” Did she have to flash her demon eyes?

“Let her live, she’s just looking, there’s nothing wrong with that!” Mel grinned up at Abigael. She couldn’t see the hazel colour of her eyes in the dim lights and a strange, sad feeling gripped her chest at that realization. She wanted Abigael closer, just to see her eyes. Shaking her head, she looked back to the bartender. Abigael had rejected her already, she should focus on a different target. “Not like it’s one-sided.” 

“Perhaps not, but I’d very much like it if she  _ did her job, _ ” Abigael growled. Her eyes flamed red and the bartender let out a squeak and hurried off.

“You had your chance, you blew it,” Mel shrugged. “No need to get your panties in a knot. Besides, she’s not sitting here with me. You are.” 

“I suppose that’s true.” The bartender brought them their drinks and immediately got as far away from them as possible. Abigael sipped her whiskey and let out a  _ blech _ . “This alcohol is atrocious.”

“There are nicer things to be had,” Mel let her eyes wander over Abigael’s lithe form before she looked back at the bartender, as if only to make Abigael more jealous. 

“You’re completely impossible, you know that?” grumbled Abigael.

“Can’t handle a taste of your own medicine?” Mel grinned into her bottle before she took a sip. The beer wasn’t as bad as she feared it would be. “That’s a shame. I thought you had more spunk than that.”

“I think I finally understand. It’s exhausting to be the responsible one. I need a crash course on how to deal with me,” said Abigael, pushing her glass away.

Mel let out a laugh. “Responsible? Screw that! It’s barely nine in the morning and we’re at a bar, 

having a drink. I think we’ve just fucked responsibility in the ass.” 

“Well.” Abigael raised her glass. “A toast to fucking responsibility up the arse.” They clinked their drinks together. “I’m still not drinking this, though.”

Mel grinned. “What would you rather have, then?”

“Some good whiskey. And some civilized music.” Abigael gestured around. “Not quite my scene, if you could tell.”

“I thought most demons liked this kind of music. I do,” Mel shrugged. She wanted to add something more, but before she could open her mouth, a man walked over to them. He was on the taller side, lanky, with a long face and platinum-blond hair. He was wearing an obviously old Slayer t-shirt that was torn in some places, and he smelled of cheap beer and weed. 

When his greyish eyes landed on Mel and he uttered a flat-sounding “hey”, Mel rolled her eyes so far back in her head that Abigael wondered if she could see her brain. 

“So, babe. How you doing?” the man said, leaning down to sling his hand around Mel’s shoulders. 

Without hesitation, Mel yanked herself away, wound up, and punched him straight in the face. “Don’t talk to people who obviously don’t want to talk to you!” she growled as she kicked him in the knee. She watched with a sense of satisfaction as he fell into a whimpering heap onto the floor in front of her. 

As much as Abigael wanted to see Mel destroy the people who tried to hit on her, simply for personal reasons, she grabbed Mel’s bicep and pulled her away from the groaning man. Mel practically fell back into her, and Abigael had to wrap her arms around her to keep her from swinging again.

“Let me-- I’ll--” Mel tried to break free to get back to handing the man his ass, but she stopped as soon as she realised what was happening. She could feel Abigael’s front pressed flush against her back, her arms coiled around Mel’s torso, her warm breath on the skin of her neck. Abigael’s enticing scent was all around her, stronger than the smells of the bar, and Mel could feel herself falling into a trance-like state. 

She leaned back, forgetting the situation at hand, pushing herself even more into Abigael’s body, enjoying the feeling of having her wrapped around herself. Turning her head to where she could feel Abigael’s breath against her ear, Mel murmured: “You’re awfully handsy for someone who didn’t want anything to happen. Not that I mind.” To prove her point, Mel ran her hands down Abigael’s, holding them where they were. 

Abigael drew in a sharp breath. She hadn’t realized how close together they were until that moment, how much this would wind Mel up, as if she were a powder keg of emotion primed to explode. Oh, how had she gotten herself into this situation? “Mel, as much as I’d love to continue this conversation-” she gestured to a few bouncers that seemed to be closing in on them. 

Mel flipped them off jauntily before lacing her fingers through Abigael’s and dragging her out the bar. The air outside was cool and refreshing after the muggy, smoky interior. The adrenaline made her feel all warm and hyper, and the gentle, chilly morning breeze only highlighted the feeling. 

Grinning, Mel turned to Abigael. “Let’s go somewhere else! I didn’t get to finish my beer!”

“While I enjoy your company, I think we should retire. I’m not sure the good people of Seattle can handle you in this state.” She indicated the man on the corner as an example, of the recently frozen saliva, who was eyeing them nervously.

“Don’t tell me it wasn’t funny!” The grin on Mel’s face turned dark. It was funny, to her, and she believed he deserved it. Abigael’s stomach turned. This wasn’t just a lack of responsibility, she feared. Something was truly wrong. Normally, Mel might have engaged him in a battle of wits, but to administer such a painful punishment and laugh about it suggested a person who enjoyed torture, which was quite far from Mel’s usual style.

When she saw the expression on Abigael’s face, Mel let out an exasperated sigh. “Okay, fine. We’ll go home. But only if we have something fun to do!”

Still cautious of this new, unpredictable Mel, Abigael started gently pulling her in the direction of the Vera manor. “And what would you like to do?”

“Oh, I can think of a few things,” Mel said, still grinning. By the look in her eyes, she could only think of one thing, and while it would usually give Abigael the advantage, being desired like she was, now it left her feeling confused more than anything. In any other situation, she’d tease Mel for not hiding her attraction and then she’d jump her bones. 

But this was different. This Mel was different. Like she wanted Abigael to know, and she didn’t care if Abigael wanted her back. Mel wasn’t acting like Mel. 

Abigael had known for a little while that Mel felt something towards her. She felt the same way, that was no secret. Normally, Abigael would have been happy to step in and take what she wanted, but something held her back.

She had been selfish her whole life, that was how she survived, how she kept moving onwards and upwards in the world. But Mel had been the one to teach her how to be selfless, so it just seemed… unfair somehow to push feelings, possibly a relationship, onto Mel before she was ready. So Abigael shut up and took a step back for once in her life. She let Mel set the pace.

So they’d stayed in a delicate balance. They didn’t ask and they definitely didn’t tell. The idea that Mel’s morals were what held her back from Abigael stung a bit. Logically, it made sense-- she wanted to avoid confrontation with her sisters, she tried not to be a bother, and admitting she felt something other than annoyance for Abigael would have been an upset. Abigael knew that. But it still hurt. Now that her morals were out of the picture, Mel had decided to launch herself full tilt at Abigael, and Abigael didn’t know if she could consider that setting the pace, since something was definitely off.

And that was it. Something was very, very wrong, and with two-thirds of the Charmed sisters gone to live their happy bloody lives, it was up to Abigael to handle Mel. Now she truly understood how frustrating it was to have to do something for someone else. Curse being selfless.

“All right, come along, now. I’m sure we can find some good documentaries you haven’t seen yet,” Abigael said, trying to keep her voice calm. She didn’t know what triggered these random bursts of emotions in Mel and she didn’t want to give her an excuse to turn violent again. 

Mel followed like a happy puppy on a leash. She talked about the different things she wanted, which seemed to change with each step she took, and told people off in between. Together, it made for a bizarre, if a bit amusing experience. 

“Can we go on a road trip? I really wanna see…” Mel stopped in the middle of the sentence. 

Abigael turned around to check on her, only to find the spot right behind her empty. Mel was already on her way to a couple making out against a wall in one of the side alleys, sputtering curse-words and practically fuming at the mouth. Abigael understood why when she heard the boy mention that his girlfriend was calling yet again. While in a different situation, Abigael would have liked to see the boy pay for cheating, her main goal was to bring Mel home safe and sound, and that meant no picking fights. 

It took her a moment to reach Mel. Abigael grasped at her hand and wrapped herself around her, much like she had in the bar. 

“Let me go! I gotta teach him a lesson.”

Abigael knew there was only one way to get her to follow. She leaned down so her lips brushed against Mel’s ear. “I know, darling. But wouldn’t you rather go home with me?” 

Mel froze. She turned her head a little to look at Abigael, eyes wide and sparkling with mischief. 

“Come on,” Abigael coaxed gently. “We’ll have fun.”

Grinning like a woman possessed, Mel let herself be led back to the manor without much of a fuss. Abigael was grateful for that when she climbed the steps to the front porch. It was only morning and she’d only been dealing with Mel for all of two hours, at most, and she was already dead-tired. She couldn’t wait to get Mel home. She wasn’t above putting her under a sleep spell, and that was saying a lot considering she never entertained the idea of using magic on Mel. 

“You know,” Mel started just as Abigael closed the door behind them, effectively sealing them in the house together, “I’ve never felt right about you liking Harry. And not just because of Macy.”

“Why then?” Abigael asked. She’d learnt more about Mel’s likes and dislikes in the past two hours than she had in the past year. Mel was all about her family, her sisters this and Harry that, she never talked about herself much, even after a year of knowing each other. But now, she only seemed to talk about herself and Abigael was soaking the information up like a sponge. 

When Mel didn’t respond, Abigael turned to face her. And then she was up against the door, the smaller witch flush against her body, their faces only inches apart. She could feel Mel’s breath, hot against her lips. 

“Because you’re mine,” Mel whispered before she leaned up and kissed Abigael, hard. It was a rough, demanding touch, all fire and passion and desire. Precisely a kiss Abigael would have given to someone she wanted to seduce. She never thought it would work on her, but apparently, it did, and more surprisingly, she didn’t even care. She couldn’t stop herself from moving with Mel’s lips, from opening her mouth just a bit, from moaning when Mel pressed herself against her. 

It was like a battle. All weapons were fair game. It wasn’t a kiss, it was a battle of skill and strategy. Abigael tried biting Mel’s lip, scratching at the nape of her neck, she even tried to use their height difference to her advantage. Nothing worked. Mel had a firm command of the kiss and all Abigael could do was admit defeat. And a glorious defeat it was. 

With her knees weak, something that had never really happened to her before, Abigael felt herself slipping down the door a little. She brought her other hand up to Mel’s shoulder to keep herself up, and Mel helped by gripping at her hips. Then she flicked her tongue against the roof of Abigael’s mouth and Abigael let out a moan. 

Then it really hit her. She was kissing Mel. She was kissing Mel! She could feel her lungs burn and her head spin. Whether it was from the lack of oxygen or the fact that, after more than a year of desiring to do just this, it was finally happening, Abigael didn’t know. 

“Mel,” she tried to say, to slow them down a little, to give herself time to think. The only reaction she got was Mel’s hands tightening on her hips and a light nip at her lower lip. Mel liked hearing her name. That was something to remember for later. 

The kiss slowly turned from an open battle to peace negotiations. It was slower, gentler, much more precise. But still, Mel didn’t allow Abigael to take control. Even like this, she had her ensnared, a willing prisoner to both of their desires. 

“Mel,” Abigael tried again. The kiss ended in a few soft, chaste kisses. They were both breathing hard, their noses brushing against one another. “Mel, we…”

“What?” The witch demanded, her voice soft but snappish like it usually was with her. 

Usually. That gave Abigael a pause. She pulled back a little, watching Mel’s dark, hooded eyes. They were usually so full of life, of righteousness, focus, happiness… now they were…  _ distant _ , she supposed, heavy like black smoke. Maybe it was desire, Abigael thought, but maybe it was something else. Something that wasn’t Mel. 

She couldn’t do this. She shouldn’t have done this. This person wasn’t the Mel she wanted so much. It might be her body, it might be her mind, but a part of Mel was missing, repressed under the effect of a spell Abigael herself had suggested. And as tiring and obnoxious as Mel’s morality and sense of responsibility were, they were big parts of what made Mel herself. Without them, she was someone entirely different.

She needed to end this and find a way to get Mel back to herself. Preferably before the two nuisances known as Mel’s sisters came back home. 

“We should stop,” Abigael whispered. She instantly saw the effect her words had on the witch. Her eyes hardened, her brows furrowed, and her lips pulled down in a frown. 

“No! No, we… You said we’d have fun!” Mel said, her voice almost a growl. Her hands at Abigael’s hips tightened their hold and pushed the witch-demon even harder against the door. “You-- I want… I’ve wanted you for so long. Don’t act like you don’t want me.” There was a note in her voice that was almost whiny. 

Warmth spread in Abigael’s chest, followed by dread. She’d wanted to hear those words from Mel for longer than she cared to remember. She wanted Mel to want her, to desire her, to show Abigael an empty piece of her heart where she could climb and make her den and just be. 

But this wasn’t her Mel. This wasn’t the gentle, good creature that Abigael had fallen for somewhere down the road. This was a woman of wants and desires long-repressed, a woman whose only goal was to sate any and every one of her needs no matter the cost. A woman not unlike Abigael used to be. 

A woman so far away from the Mel Abigael wanted to love that it was almost painful to watch. 

Abigael thought that ridding Mel of her sense of responsibility would make her more carefree, more fun, that it would give her some time to relax. That it was a good thing to live in a world where the morals didn’t matter. And it was, for Abigael. But Mel was different. She was a person of conviction and a genuine drive to be good. And while a year ago, Abigael would have been happy to sleep with someone who was all about desires and wants and needs, now all she wanted was Mel. Her Mel. 

“I do want you,” Abigael whispered, voice raw and closer to breaking than ever. “But I want the person you are, not the person a potion makes you into. Once it wears off, we can talk about this.”

“What? You wanted me to take the potion!  _ You  _ wanted me to become like this!”

“I  _ wanted  _ you to relax, not to take away all your inhibitions! We need to change you back to how you were before the potion, now!”

The warmth of Mel’s hands was suddenly gone. Before Abigael could blink, Mel was taking one angry step away after the other, eyes dark and dangerous. “What if I don’t want to go back? I feel just fine! No, I feel perfect!”

“This isn’t you.”

“Like you know who I am!”

“I do!” Abigael argued. “I do know who you are, and right now, you aren’t yourself!”

Mel scoffed. “Fuck this.” 

Abigael opened her mouth to say something, but before she could, Mel stomped her way into the kitchen, leaving Abigael alone and cold in the entrance hall. 

Abigael stood there for a second, not quite sure what to do, when the door swung open and smacked her in the ass. “Occupied!” she yelped.

“Sorry, sorry!” The voice of Maggie called from outside the house. Oh, hell. Maggie was home, and Mel still wasn’t back to normal. She couldn’t come in. But… how long would it take Maggie to realize something was off if Abigael didn’t let her come into her own house?

Abigael reluctantly moved back from the front door and Maggie stepped inside, dropping her books next to her backpack. She did a double-take when she realized they weren’t in their normal, neat, Mel-curated stack, and a triple-take when she realized Abigael was the one standing in front of her, with no Mel in sight. However, she still smiled up at her, ever the cheerful, personable one of the group. They’d become quite friendly with one another over the past year, or at least more friendly than they used to be, but right now she was the last person Abigael wanted to see. Or, second-to-last.

“Hi, Abi! How are you?” she chirped.

There was no possible way Abigael could keep this up. Maggie would see right through her in a matter of minutes. But it was worth a try. “I’m well, thank you. How was class today?”

“I only have one class on Tuesdays. Sociology. But I’m swamped with homework like you wouldn’t believe,” Maggie stretched, yawning. “I need a nap so badly, but I’m going to Jordan’s to study soon. Have you seen Mel today? I wanna say hi.”   
  


“No!” cried Abigael. Maggie’s eyes widened in confusion. “I mean, no, I haven’t seen her recently. I believe she is sleeping in. It would be rude to wake her, wouldn’t it?”

“I guess,” said Maggie. “I hope she didn’t sleep past her alarm. She’d go nuts if she missed anything too important, but that girl needs her rest.” A loud crash emerged from the kitchen, and both Maggie and Abigael jumped. “What was that?”

_ It’s your sister, on a bender after I drove her to maim her morals and then rejected her _ , thought Abigael. “Oh, that’s of no consequence.” She tried for light and breezy, most likely failing. “A spell gone wrong that I contained to your kitchen. I’m taking care of it.” Well, technically that wasn’t a lie. Maggie looked startled, but before she could speak, the door swung open, smacking Abigael in the backside yet again. “I hate this family,” she growled.

“Oh! I apologize, whoever that was,” said Macy. Abigael felt ready to scream.  _ There _ was the last person she wanted to see. Not one sister, but two? How could she possibly deal with this? Especially as sober as she was. Even that terrible whiskey was starting to sound good. “I got off early today and thought I’d come home and spend some time with my girls.” Macy came in and shut the door, hanging her lab coat on the hook. She glanced down at the spare lying on the floor, then looked back up again, seeing Abigael. “Oh, hello, She-Devil.”

“Scientist Barbie,” greeted Abigael stiffly.

Another resounding crash came from the kitchen, and Macy whirled. “What-?”

“Abi says that a spell went wrong in there,” said Maggie.

Macy shot Abigael an unconvinced look. Abigael realized too late that, while Maggie was good at reading people, Macy was the one who didn’t trust her. She was the one she had to convince.

“Er, yes. But I have it under control,” said Abigael. 

Macy raised an eyebrow. “Do you? I think we should check on it.”

“No, everything is perfectly fine, perfectly normal,” Abigael gritted out. Nosy witches. Although, she supposed it  _ was _ their house.

“Macy, she said she’s got it.” God bless Maggie Vera. A sound like a pan falling to the floor came from the kitchen, and Maggie winced. “But maybe we should come in with you, just in case.”

“No, you two, I think it’s best if I take care of it myself,” Abigael said, convincingly. “I made the mistake, now I need to fix it, right?”

Macy narrowed her eyes at Abigael. She wanted to go in because she didn’t trust Abigael, and never had. Maggie, on the other hand, wanted to go in because she was prone to the “Teamwork! Sparkles! Friendship!” type of mindset. Both were equally bad news for her because… well, obvious reasons. But it didn’t matter, because then Mel chose to make her potion-high debut.

There was a clanking noise and Mel emerged from the kitchen, covered in plates that she had duct-taped to herself like armour. “I’m a stormtrooper.” 

“Good gods,” mumbled Abigael. “Let the record show I didn’t want to do this.  _ Close your eyes, stay asleep, you’re less trouble when you don’t make a peep _ .” Mel collapsed to the hardwood, one of the plates on her leg shattering against the ground.

Macy and Maggie both cried out and ran to their sister. “Abi, what the hell?” yelled Macy. “Why did you do that?”

Maggie checked her pulse. “She’s alive.”

“Of course she is. I would never harm her. What do you take me for?” said Abigael exasperatedly.

“A demon?” spat Macy.

“Hush, Macy, you’re as demon as I am.” Abigael glanced sadly down at Mel, whose mouth was open slightly as she snored away. Macy seemed to soften slightly against her will when she saw the way Abigael was looking at her sister. “But I think I’d better explain a few things.”

\-----------

“So she has no morals,” said Maggie, collapsing in Mel’s favourite armchair. “None whatsoever.”

“Yes,” Abigael responded. She was sitting on Mel’s bed, next to Mel herself, who was now free of “armour” and still fast asleep. Next to her was a pile of sticky plates. Abigael wondered who would end up cleaning them. Probably Mel herself, unfortunately.

“And we have to come up with some sort of counter-potion to bring them back?” Maggie asked. “Am I getting this?”

“Also yes. Although I’m not yet sure what that would entail.”

“Somehow I know for a fact this is your fault,” Macy said from where she leaned against the door frame.

Abigael winced. “Normally, I’d tell you to bugger off, but in this case, you’d be correct. The tincture was my plan. Though, in my defence, I thought she’d simply feel more relaxed for a few hours, not go on a rampage snogging and fighting everyone she sees.”

“Sounds like my junior year of high school,” joked Maggie.

Macy was already flipping through Abigael’s potion book. Abigael wanted to reach out and grab it from her; she didn’t like other people touching it, especially people named Macy. Mel was the only exception because Abigael knew she wouldn’t be careless with it-- not only because she was never careless with anything, but because she was the only one who knew how much that book meant to her. The thought sent another pang through Abigael’s chest.

“Concealment,” read Macy. 

Abigael leapt to her feet. “That’s it. Is there an antidote for it?”

The three of them crowded around the book. 

“Not that I can see,” Macy sighed, flipping through the pages, getting more furious by the second. 

Finally having had enough of the rough treatment, Abigael snatched the book from Macy’s hands and opened it up to the page of the concealment charm. “Fine, then. It says here it should last for somewhere between twenty-four and seventy-two hours.” 

“Makes sense,” Macy remarked, “that’s how long it takes humans to digest. Considering it was a liquid, I’m leaning towards twenty-four hours. When did she take it?”

“Sometime last night, I think,” Abigael responded, remembering back to the fight she’d had with Mel. Her heart clenched at the memory. 

“Great, so we’re less than twelve hours in,” Maggie huffed, sagging a little. 

“We can give her wolfsbane, that would cause her to vomit,” Abigael suggested. “Get the potion out of her.”

“By now, the potion should be out of her stomach, I think,” Macy sighed. “Laxatives are a better option.”

“Okay, gross.” Maggie shuddered violently. 

“If you want to help your sister, you have to keep it in, Perky Peanut,” Abigael said. “I think Macy may mean a magical laxative. If we mix ginger root with milk thistle and ginseng, and let her take that with some hot water, it should help with digestion, and get the potion out of her faster.” 

“Wait,” Macy narrowed her eyes at the witch-demon, “isn’t ginseng used as an aphrodisiac?” 

“I’m surprised you know that, Lighterbanger,” Abigael quirked an eyebrow.

The corner of Macy’s mouth twitched. “What’s that supposed to mean?”

“Well, it’s not as funny if I have to explain it. I’m both poking fun at your relationship with Harold and insinuating that you never stick around for anything witch-related, therefore you knowing the effects of a herb is a tad surprising.” 

“What? I’m always around when I’m needed!” 

Abigael felt a familiar roaring in the back of her head. Her demon side, chanting to make it known to Macy just how awful she was being. Normally, she suppressed it, but she was exhausted and achy and emotional, and besides, this was about Mel. If there was one thing she could never stay quiet about, it was protecting Mel. 

“Like hell you are!” Abigael spat. She turned to face the tallest of the Charmed Ones with fire in her eyes. “You don’t even know how many demons she’d had to vanquish last week!”

Scoffing, Macy crossed her hands over her chest. “We vanquished two. Not that either of them was worth the fight.”

“She’d vanquished twelve demons! Twelve!”

“What? No, she--”

“She what?” Abigael stepped closer, shoulders squared, jaw set. Oh, the nerve of this woman! “She wouldn’t vanquish demons without you? Have you  _ met _ her? If someone came to her for help and you weren’t home, would she have told them no?”

“Of course not.” This time, it was Maggie who answered, acting like it was the stupidest question in the world. Considering they were talking about Mel, it probably was. “She’d help them. Without a doubt.”

“Exactly.”

“Don’t act like you know her!” it was Macy’s turn to step closer to Abigael. “You know nothing about her or us! So take that stupid potion book and go! We’ll take care of our sister!”

“Just like you’ve been taking care of her for the past year?” Abigael snapped. “That’s why she’s in this mess in the first place! Because you  _ didn’t _ take care of her! Your own sister!” 

“That’s not true, we--”

“You were off living your best lives, not caring about a thing! And she was here, doing your chores, doing your work, being all three of the Charmed Ones at once!”

“She told us to!” Macy protested.

“Of course she did! That’s what Mel does. She takes charge, takes responsibility, she makes sure her family is safe and happy! And you’ve both used that to have more time with your precious little man-toys.” Abigael turned to leave, then turned back and spat, “And ginseng’s aphrodisiac properties are nullified by the ginger, but I’m sure you already knew that since you seem to know everything.”

When Abigael left, she noticed that at least Maggie had the decency to look properly ashamed. Macy, however, still leered at her like she thought Abigael was lying to them. If only she would open her eyes! Abigael had spent more time with Mel over the past year than Maggie and Macy combined. Why didn’t she realize that?

Moving around the house came naturally to Abigael by now. She’d spent so many days here, either helping Mel or just lounging around that she felt like she knew every nook and cranny. Finding the correct ingredients and equipment to mix them all wasn’t difficult, neither was making the herbal salve. The difficult thing was not to phase-shift up into Mel’s room and yell at those two numbskulls some more. 

_ It’s Mel’s problem. Mel wouldn’t want me to stick my nose in it. She needs to take care of it herself,  _ she told herself.  _ And she will, just as soon as she feels better.  _

Who was she kidding? Mel would never tell her sisters off. The most she might do is hint at the problem and then explode about it to Abigael. Which was saying something about how much she trusted Abigael with her emotions, the witch-demon realised with a soft flutter in her chest. 

She  _ should _ have yelled at them more. Maybe even slapped them both across the face, that might have knocked some compassion into those thick skulls of theirs. 

No. This was for Mel to figure out. She didn’t need anyone to fight her battles for her. She didn’t need a protector or a babysitter. She was strong and capable, and she could take charge of her own life. Usually. 

Abigael was brought out of her thoughts by the sounds of bare feet on the wood of the staircase. It wasn’t Mel, she knew, not only because Mel was asleep. The pitter-patter of the feet was all wrong, a little too light, too fast to be Mel. Sure enough, when she turned around, she was faced with Maggie, her head down and wide eyes trained onto the ground. 

“Do you need help?” Maggie asked almost meekly, like she was afraid. No, not afraid. Ashamed. Desperate to make amends. 

As angry as she was at her and Macy, Abigael didn’t have the heart to turn her away. She actually quite liked Maggie. She almost thought of her as a younger sister, of sorts. “I suppose. You know the ingredients just as well as I do.”

Nodding to herself, Maggie walked over to the kitchen counter where Abigael was and got to work. She was a bit clumsy, her fingers not used to the way potion ingredients were supposed to be handled. There was a time when Maggie was good at it. Not the best, certainly, both of her sisters were far better at potion-making than she was. But she used to be sure in her movements. Now, not so much. 

“What you said up there, about Mel… What did she--?” Maggie’s voice broke. She didn’t finish the question. 

“I lost control,” Abigael admitted. “She has been struggling quite a bit, but I think Mel would rather tell you the story when she’s back to herself again.”

“I just… I’ve never felt anything from her, you know? She’s not good at hiding what she’s feeling even though she does it a lot, but I… I couldn’t tell she was--” biting her lip, Maggie shook her head. “What did we do wrong? Why did she do this instead of just talking to us?” 

“She cares for you,” Abigael said simply. “More than anything. More than anyone should care.” She held a ginseng root up to the light and dropped it into a mortar. “She needed time to herself. It’s difficult to care that much.”

“She always cares and she’d never had a problem before,” Maggie frowned. She looked at Abigael from the corner of her eye, her frown loosening slightly. “It’s strange.”

“What is?” Abigael asked more out of courtesy than real curiosity.

“You say it’s difficult to care that much, like you know how it feels,” Maggie let the words hang in between them. Abigael didn’t respond, and the youngest Charmed one took that as her clue to continue. “You care about her, don’t you? Maybe even more than you want to. That’s why you say that, because you’re familiar with that feeling.”

Abigael could feel her heart stop for the shortest moment. Memories of all the times she and Mel were together came back to her mind. How Mel had rummaged through her things, and Abigael hadn’t burnt her to crisp right then and there because something in her didn’t let her even think about doing it. How, after saving Harry, Macy had sent the tank through the portal, and Abigael’s first instinct was to protect Mel. How she didn’t want to leave Mel alone when Godric’s demons had them cornered, even though she very well could. How anytime she felt sad or anxious, or just plain bad, she sought out Mel’s company. How she went to Mel even when she was happy or content, when she wanted a good laugh or a good talk. How Mel was the answer every time Abigael felt like she needed or wanted something.

She thought of that kiss. The kiss she had wanted for so long. She’d wanted Mel since the spitfire witch first told her off. She’d desired to have her, to possess her, to learn every curve of her body. 

She did care for her, that much was true. Somewhere down the road, ever since they’d gotten to know each other, she started caring. Mel had worked tirelessly to break through Abigael’s walls, to worm herself into Abigael’s life and her heart. And she’d succeeded, Abigael thought. She’d made Abigael change her views, she’d given her new ambitions, different ideas. She’d taught Abigael to help rather than harm. She’d given Abigael a new lease on life. She’d made Abigael different, and Abigael allowed it, wanted it even. 

She cared for Mel. Maybe too much. Maybe enough to love her someday soon. Maybe enough that she already loved her. 

But that wasn’t for Maggie to know. 

“Don’t be daft.” She frowned at the younger witch. “You and your sisters are convenient to have around and I am only making sure that you stay that way.”

“Convenient or around?” Maggie questioned. She seemed unconvinced.

Abigael checked the thick salve in the mortar, nodding once at its colour and consistency. Then she regarded Maggie with the most closed-off look she could muster, determined not to let any of her emotions slip. She didn’t need the youngest Charmed One, who didn’t have the word boundaries in her vocabulary if what Mel had told her was anything to go by, to go poking around in her mind or psychoanalysing her. 

“Both,” she finally said. Then she took the mortar with the salve, plus a glass of water that she heated up with her hand, and walked out, effectively putting the conversation to an end. 

She could hear Macy’s shrieking voice from the staircase, yelling about something stopping. So the sleeping spell must have worn off. How peachy. This wasn’t how Abigael envisioned giving Mel the antidote. Mel was still supposed to be asleep, at least for another half-hour, according to Abigael’s estimate. It seemed Mel was far tougher than Abigael thought. 

She stopped in front of Mel’s room, mentally preparing herself for anything and everything she might find inside. What she did find upon opening the door was Macy standing in front of Mel’s bed, yelling her lungs out for Mel to stop, and Mel throwing ice-shards created from a water bottle on her nightstand all around the room, with a manic grin on her face. 

Abigael only moved when one of the shards barely missed the window. She stepped in, head held high and shoulders set, much like she would into a room full of demons. It worked. Both sisters turned to look at her, both with wildly different reactions. Macy frowned so much that she looked like a storm cloud in a human body, and Mel grinned even wider. The grin sent chills down Abigael’s spine. It wasn’t Mel’s usual half-smile that she sported when she didn’t want to show that she was smiling, or the smile that she sometimes let reside freely on her face, warmer than the summer sun or a peaceful fireplace fire during a cold, winter night. No, this grin was dark, sharp, still happy, but full of mischief and menace. 

“You have the antidote?” Macy asked, voice hard and eyes even harder. 

“I do, in fact,” Abigael lifted the mortar and the hot water. “No thanks to you.”

“I was making sure she didn’t go on a rampage!” 

“And you’re doing a bang-up job, obviously.”

“You’re  _ such _ a bitch,” Macy spat. 

Abigael sighed theatrically. “If I had a nickel…”

Macy opened her mouth to say something, but she was cut off by an ice-shard flying straight for her chest. Abigael watched with a slight pang of disappointment as Macy pushed the shard away from her with a flick of her hand. 

“As much as I would like to flatten you in this pissing contest you always pick with me, I have things to do, so if you don’t mind--” Abigael said, pointing to the door behind her back. 

Macy looked more than scandalized. “What? I’m not leaving! Mel is  _ my _ sister, and I--”

“And I’d  _ adore _ hearing how you’re going to convince Sister Dearest to take this antidote I have in my hot little hands,” Abigael said, annoyed. 

Macy ignored her and turned to face Mel. Abigael decided to let this disrespect slide since their main concern was the same.

“Melanie Vera, stop throwing ice at me!” Macy added a stomp for good measure.

Dear gods, Macy was going to be bad at being a stern parent… 

Mel, apparently, thought so as well because she threw not one, but three shards straight at her sister, laughing as she watched Macy windmill her arms to dodge them. Abigael wanted to chuckle at her cartoonish movements, too, but she pushed it down. She needed to get her Mel back, she could laugh at Macy later. 

“Mel, c’mon! Stop this and take the antidote!” 

Mel tried to flip another ice-shard. When nothing happened, she glared at the bottle and threw it to the side. It clacked against the wall, a dull, empty sound resonating through the room on impact, before falling onto one of many heaps of clothes and writing supplies and other things Abigael didn’t bother identifying. 

“Go to hell!” Mel growled at her sister.

“This isn’t you!”

“Funny, that’s that second time I’ve heard that today from a person who doesn’t know shit about me!” 

“I do know you, I’m your sister!” Macy argued. She stepped closer to Mel, head lowered just a little and eyes wide and pleading. She looked pathetic, Abigael thought. Then again, dealing with an angry Mel was like taming a dragon on the best of days; dealing with an unhinged Mel might just cost them their lives. Abigael still remembered how easily Mel encased her in ice and took away her ability to move and defend herself. She was like a goddess of wrath on a rampage. 

Perhaps pleading wasn’t such a bad idea. They might even need to add sacrificing a goat while they were at it. 

“I’m not taking any antidote!” Mel continued. She climbed down from the bed and took a few slow, deliberate steps towards Macy. Abigael recognised the walk and the intention behind it almost immediately. It was the same tactics she used when she wanted to intimidate someone. 

It chilled her how similar Mel was to her, deep down. 

“I’m not taking anything! I like myself like this. I feel fine, perfect even! You want me to stay in the kitchen and to deal with magic so that you can go back to your pretty little life. Well, I’m not doing that. Guess what? I want to have my own life, too! I have someone I want to spend my time with, I have things I want to do!”

“So why don’t you?”

“When?” Seething, Mel stood on her tip-toes to get threateningly close to Macy, who was now pushed up against a wall. “When can I? I sleep for three hours a day as it is.”

“Mel, I--I didn’t know, I--”

Mel scoffed, turning away from her sister. 

“C’mon, we’ll talk about it when you’re okay, I promise, I’ll take on more things at home! I’ll help out, I promise, please, just take the antidote!”

Mel whirled around and stretched out her hand in the already familiar gesture of using her powers. She growled when nothing happened. “You can thank any deity you want that I can’t use my powers on you!”

“Perhaps,” Abigael chose this time to step in, “you should leave, Scientist Barbie. I’ll take care of her.”

“Like hell I’ll let you take care of her!” Macy growled. 

Mel took a threatening step towards her sister. “You have no right to decide who will and who won’t be with me. So back off!”

“I’m your sister--”

“Then act like it, always, not just when it suits you!”

“I will, but first you have to--” Macy was cut off by a fireball snuffed out right beside her head. It was quiet for a moment, still. 

“Now that I have your attention,” Abigael said with all the leisure in the world, “shall we deal with this problem or are you comfortable having an argument that you should have had half a year ago?”

“Leave us alone, she-demon,” Macy growled out at her. 

“No, Macy, you leave,” Mel returned. Macy gave her the most pronounced shocked expression Abigael had ever seen, mumbling a quiet ‘what’, with her brows furrowed and head cocked to the side. “Abi’s spent more time with me this past year than you and Maggie combined, she has more of a right to stay than you do!”

Macy’s eyes turned to Abigael, big and questioning. After a moment, she hung her head low, shoulders slumped, and walked over to the door. When she was just a few inches from Abigael, she whispered, “do you think you can handle her?” 

“I’ve been handling her for the whole day today, I can take a few more hours,” Abigael responded calmly and confidently, even though she felt neither of those things when she saw how Mel was eyeing her. It was a predatory look, one she herself would use on an unassuming woman if she wanted an appetizer for the night. She’d never realized how unnerving it was to be on the receiving end of such looks, until now. 

“We’ll be downstairs,” Macy said after a moment of hesitation. “Call if you need us. I’ll fill Harry in on the situation, too, in case anything goes wrong.”

“It won’t,” Abigael was quick to assure, “I’ll handle it.”

“I’m only leaving you with her because you’re the last resort. Don’t make me reconsider.”

“You’re forgetting that your sister is very much capable of taking care of herself and doesn’t need you to play bodyguard once in a blue moon. Now, unless you want to witness things you will never be able to get out of your mind, I suggest you leave this room, preferably even the house. I can handle myself, and I can handle your sister as well.”

Macy’s stare turned hard. “Maggie, Harry, and I will be in the kitchen,” she declared with resolution and threat weaved into her voice. Then she left, closing the door behind her with a loud thud. 

A tense silence settled over the room. They eyed each other like two tigers at the same watering hole, trying to gauge who was the weaker of the two. It was quite possibly the strangest experience Abigael had ever had to live through. She’d always known Mel was a formidable witch, a powerful woman and a strong person and she never took her lightly. But she’d always had the sense of superiority when dealing with her, knowing that she’d win any battle, any fight they might have.

She only now realized that the confidence she had came from the knowledge that she would use any weapon, any advantage, while Mel would only go as far as her strict moral code would let her. With the absence of that moral code, Mel was a weapon, much like Abigael herself used to be. The only problem was that while Abigael hadn’t abided by any morals, she had control over herself and she knew what she could do to get what she wanted. Mel wasn’t like that. Right now, she was driven by her baser instincts, her wants and desires, and she didn’t care for consequences or obstacles. With this disregard for everything, Mel was much more dangerous than Abigael could ever hope to be. 

“You want me to take that antidote, too, don’t you?” Mel asked with disdain in her voice. Abigael’s throat clenched at how raw her voice sounded, how her eyes were filled with so many emotions it was difficult to tell them all apart. Abigael doubted even Mel could tell them apart.

“I do,” Abigael nodded simply. There was no reason to tiptoe around it. She’d find a way to get Mel to take that antidote if it was the last thing she’d do. 

Mel let out a humourless laugh. “You want me to be your plaything. Of course you do, you like that shit. Should I call you mistress, too?” 

“I would never want that from you. Well, not outside of the before agreed upon session, anyway.”

“Why do you want me to take that thing, then?” 

“Because,” Abigael let out a defeated sigh, “contrary to popular belief, as well as everything that I say, I do enjoy our conversations. And we can’t have those with you always defaulting to enraged or… shall we say, titillated.”

“We’re having a conversation right now!”

“No, you’re yelling at me right now because you’re angry,” Abigael corrected her. 

“I’m not going back to that-- that half-life. I want to have time for myself and for what  _ I _ want, it’s my own fucking life!” 

“That can be done without you being someone you’re not.”

“You don’t know shit about me!”

“I know you like all different types of music.”

Mel’s eyes widened. “Don’t do that.”

“I know you like to dress in black because it makes you feel safe,” Abigael continued. She watched as Mel shook her head, her eyes hard and jaw set. Perhaps the potion was wearing off sooner than expected. Or maybe it was getting worse if Mel finally could keep a conversation like this and not turn it into a physical fight. Abigael hoped for the former, but if she knew anything about magic, it was the latter. She needed to get the antidote into Mel fast or they’d be faced with rational, selfish, amoral Melanie Vera. And while the thought of Mel taking what she wanted with complete disregard for others was appealing on some inexplicable level, it was also terrifying because the real Mel wouldn’t want that. The real Mel cared far too much. 

“I know you like experimenting with potions because you want to find a new one or a better way to make one, and the feeling when you figure something out gives you a rush like no other. I know you love witchcraft because it makes you feel powerful and in control, but also because you simply enjoy knowing new things. I know you’re competitive. I know you’re reckless. I know you would do anything for the people you love. I know you’re the world’s biggest Gryffindor, whatever that means. I know you love green tea, but any other type of tea makes you gag, and that you take your coffee black with no sugar or milk. I know that you don’t eat chocolate unless you’re alone because you think the secrecy of it makes it taste better. I know you’ve read  _ The Feminine Mystique _ at least ten times. I know you want to go back to school and finish your degree. I know you like naps in the centre of the bed and that you cuddle into anything you can reach when you sleep. I know you like to make your bed into a little den with pillows and blankets when you’re feeling off. I know you write everything down, even though you don’t have to because you have an incredible memory. I know you only sing when you vacuum because you think your singing is horrible, but I actually think it’s quite beautiful. I know that you care about your sisters and that you want to help them, and that you would give the world to them if you could. And I know that if I let this go now, if I don’t bring you back, you’re going to go on a rampage and then, when the potion wears off, you’ll regret everything. And I don’t want you to regret anything.”

Mel’s eyes were harder than Abigael had ever seen them. There was a strange expression on her face, something between disbelief, hope and anger, and it made her look even scarier. 

“Besides,” Abigael added after a short moment, “I think we work better when it’s you who has to hold me back.” Mel was staring defiantly at her, and Abigael cautiously stepped closer. She was only a few inches away from her now. She lowered her voice. She wasn’t accustomed to begging for what she wanted, but this felt different. “Please.”

Mel’s eyes went from Abigael’s eyes to her lips and then back. Her throat bobbed as she swallowed. When she spoke, her voice was softer now, but still rough. “I can’t.”

Abigael was all out of honesty. Mel was really, truly struggling and she was out of assurances to give her. In order to bring her Mel back, Abigael had to become Mel’s Abi, and that meant she had to trick her. 

Mel looked down at her hands. She seemed melancholic, a lot calmer than she’d been for the past few hours, but Abigael didn’t let that fool her: she knew Mel would turn into a blizzard in seconds if she said the wrong thing. She backed away cautiously and Mel growled, crossing her arms and flopping back down on the bed.

“Why do you want me so much now? You didn’t want me at the door,” Mel grumbled, her voice raw with hurt. It made Abigael’s throat clench to hear those words, and to hear Mel’s voice so strained. Of course she’d wanted her, but this strange Mel took desire to be all or nothing. However, it gave her an idea. While Mel was slowly getting used to this new, unhinged version of herself, she was still driven by emotion. If Abigael could draw her focus to one, singular emotion, she could make Mel stop thinking and take the antidote. When it came to Mel, Abigael was an expert at making her feel two things: angry and, evidently, horny. And she definitely didn’t want Mel to be angry right now. 

“It’s a good thing I made us stop,” Abigael said slowly, taking a few small steps away from Mel. She looked at the antidote in her hand, frowning. There was only one way she could think of to get it into Mel’s system. She poked at it, her face scrunching a little at the mud-like texture, and scooped up a generous amount. Mel was still looking down at her hands, twisting her fingers together.

“Why?”

“Because your sisters got home only moments after you stormed off. If I hadn’t stopped you, who knows what they might have walked into…” 

Mel grunted from her spot on the bed, but she didn’t look up. Abigael took that time to smear the antidote onto her lips. It tasted strange, bitter-sweet, earthy, with the spicy tang of ginger hiding at the back. She had to consciously remind herself not to lick it off. 

“They might have seen things we wouldn’t want them to see.” Abigael continued painting the little fantasy with her words, hoping that it would work. She walked closer to the bed, keeping her steps steady and slow, watching Mel for any and all reactions. “And that would have just killed the mood. But now, we’re alone. Your sisters know not to come in here. Just imagine the possibilities…” 

Mel let out a growl deep in her throat, the sound made Abigael’s skin crawl with goosebumps and flash with warmth. She then got up, faster than Abigael anticipated, bringing them so close that Abigael could feel Mel’s breath on her face. 

“I really hate this hot-and-cold act,” Mel growled out, hard gaze jumping between Abigael’s eyes, lips and cleavage.  _ That’s good _ , Abigael told herself as she tried and failed to ignore the warm tingles Mel’s closeness sent up and down her spine. Mel wanting her would make it easier to get the antidote into her. “If you don’t want me, tell me now because after I start, I won’t stop.”

Mel’s face was so close, her lips just inches away. If she kissed her, Abigael wondered, would it be the same as it had been in the entrance hall? Would it be different? 

She didn’t have to wonder for too long. As soon as she whispered a soft: “I want you”, Mel’s lips were on hers and her mind went blank for a moment. 

The kiss was strong, Mel’s hand in her hair kept Abigael from moving away, and her nimble tongue danced at Abigael’s lips. Abigael had to force herself to keep her mouth shut, at least for a little while, until all of the antidote was gone. She wondered briefly if it would be enough, if she should apply more. And how would she get Mel to drink the hot water? 

She tried to pull back, but the hand in her hair tightened its hold and pushed her back in. She couldn’t hold back a moan at the pang of pain in her scalp. She’d never had anyone do anything like that to her, she was always the one on top, the one in control, the one inflicting delicious pain on her partners. Having something like that done to her was surprising on its own, but the fact that her body seemed to enjoy such treatment was even more surprising. 

She could feel the grin on Mel’s lips as they pressed against her own. The hand in her hair tugged again, eliciting another throaty sound from Abigael, which caused Mel to break the kiss. 

“Who would have thought you of all people would like that?” Mel murmured. Abigael could feel the feather-like touch of her moving lips against her own and she had to suppress a chuckle at the tickling it evoked. 

“I like a lot of different things,” Abigael breathed out. She pulled back a little, opening her eyes to watch Mel for reactions. But Mel didn’t react. She just stood there, eyes closed, mouth slightly open, as if she was still processing the kiss. Abigael would have liked to have time to process, as well, but she couldn’t allow herself that. She had a mission to accomplish. She could process and, hopefully, do more things with Mel after she was done. 

Taking advantage of Mel’s lack of attention, Abigael scooped up another dose of the tincture and spread it over her lips and the tip of her tongue. Her nose scrunched a bit at the earthy taste, but she pushed through the discomfort. She let the almost empty mortar fall to the ground and cupped Mel’s cheek in her hand, running a thumb over her jaw, and pressed another kiss to her lips. 

It was like she breathed life into a statue. Mel instantly moved, deepening the kiss with force, but still gentle. The hand in Abigael’s hair loosened a little and the other hand moved to the small of her back, pulling her closer. 

“You might want to take a drink,” Abigael suggested breathily when they separated. “You’ll need it with what I have in mind for you.”

Mel looked at her, eyes wide and dark, like two miniature swirling abysses. She reached for the glass Abigael had set on the side table and downed it without a question. Abigael wondered for a moment if a normal horny Mel followed directions just as well as this unhinged version of her. 

“Ugh. It was warm,” Mel made a disgusted noise. 

“Can’t let you cool off.”

Mel let out a sound somewhere between a growl and a moan. The next thing Abigael knew, she had been shoved onto the bed, with Mel comfortably straddling her lap, a grin on her lips, dark eyes full of mischievous sparkles and her black hair hanging around her in waves. She looked ravishing, Abigael thought. Completely unlike the Mel she was used to. Of course, her Mel was one of the most beautiful women she’d ever laid eyes on, even when she was rushing about in a harrowed state of panic, hair up in a bun, with her joggers on backwards and missing one slipper. Especially then. She’d always considered Mel irritatingly perfect. But, she decided, she wouldn’t mind seeing this Mel more often. Especially if it meant she’d snog her socks off periodically. 

Mel leaned down slowly, her hair closing around Abigael like a curtain, effectively blocking off the world around them. Her lips curled into a smile, but it wasn’t the nasty or mischievous grin that she’d been showing the world ever since taking the potion. It was Mel’s smile, kind and sweet, the one that Abigael was used to seeing, and it made Abigael let out a tiny gasp, made her heart beat faster and her fingers tingle with warmth.

It wasn’t possible that the tincture was already working, it was too soon. So how could this version of Mel have the smile of her Mel? 

Before she had the chance to ponder it, Mel’s soft, still-smiling lips touched her own. The first kiss was soft, just a long peck, really, but it was enough to heat Abigael’s body up. Then came another press of lips, a bit shorter, a bit stronger. Then another and another. Abigael’s hand sneaked up Mel’s hand and to her neck to keep her close, happy to just be lying there. Mel, however, didn’t seem half as content. She let out a long breath through her nose, the hand that wasn’t supporting her weight took a few strands of Abigael’s hair and tugged a little, and then she surged forward, hard and unrelenting. The sweetness of the first few kisses was gone, replaced completely by fire and demanding pressure. 

For all her might and stubbornness, Abigael gave in almost immediately. She could barely taste the antidote anymore, which meant her plan had worked, but she just couldn’t bear to drag herself away. Somehow she was kissing Mel for the second time in 24 hours after she had cared for her for so long, and somewhere deep inside Abigael was worried this was the last time that her lips would ever touch Mel’s.

It was irrational, she knew, since if she had learned anything from this experience, it was that Mel cared for her in the same odd yet fierce way. But she didn’t fear that Mel wouldn’t want her, she feared that Mel would never let herself give into wanting Abigael; that she could never take that leap and possibly put herself and her heart in danger by trusting Abigael. If she hadn’t done it up until now, what was to say that she wouldn’t go right back to keeping a respectful, friendly distance? 

As if in contrast to Abigael’s own thoughts, Mel pressed into Abigael, both passionate and gentle, letting their foreheads gently bump against one another and dropping her hands to the nape of Abigael’s neck. Mel felt so good there, so  _ right _ , lying half on top of her, her scent intoxicating and all around, like a puzzle piece had fallen into place. They belonged together, in both mind and body, a melding of calm and chaos that Abigael never could have predicted when she first saw Mel leaning over the command center banister, in that black turtleneck that Abigael had said, teasingly, made her look like a distressed poet, regarding her with a mixture of contempt, distrust, and curiosity. What if Mel unlocked herself from Abigael and yanked herself away? 

But with what felt like a block of lead sitting in her stomach, Abigael had to pull back, letting the future happen as it may.  _ Mel wants you around _ , she told herself sternly, which was no easy task for a person like her, who had never felt truly wanted until very recently. She didn’t quite believe in destiny, but if the two of them were meant to be and stay together, it would eventually happen, no matter what. Even she couldn’t be so unlucky as to lose her, not when things were finally going somewhat correctly.

Mel, at the moment, didn’t look quite so benevolent. The antidote wouldn’t work for a while, since it was more scientific than magical, and one thing she’d allowed Macy to teach her was that many experiments took time and patience. Which unfortunately meant that another burst of anger was coming.

“Why’d you stop?” she demanded, sitting up again. Her hair stuck up in the back like peacock feathers. Abigael tried to explain, but for once, words, her most trusty weapon, failed her. Mel swallowed, making a funny face. “I don’t like your new lipstick. What’s that taste? Ginger? And ginseng...?” Her eyes widened, and Abigael felt her chest tighten at the hurt and betrayal welling in them. “You tricked me!” She brought her hand up to her mouth, perhaps going to shove her fingers down her throat and cause herself to vomit, but Abigael grabbed her arm and yanked it behind her back. Mel let out a howl and began to thrash. 

“ _ Close your eyes, stay asleep, you’re less trouble when you don’t make a peep!”  _ cried Abigael helplessly, but it didn’t work. Mel must have seen it coming, and she was a strong enough witch to evade a rudimentary sleep spell such as that one. Abigael needed something stronger, but all the other spells she knew required at least two witches. She heaved a sigh and yelled, “Macy! I need your assistance!”

Macy leaned in immediately, as if she had been standing there for some time, an irritating, know-it-all grin plastered on her face. Her and Mel definitely shared a mother. “Yes?” Abigael made an expansive gesture at the flurry of rage Mel had become. “You know, I think I’m fine right here, actually.” She indeed looked content to just stand and bask in Abigael’s suffering, even letting out a snort when Mel set herself loose and backhanded Abigael in the nose with her flailing, but when Mel immediately used that arm to stick her fingers down her throat, Macy decided to leap into action.

“How nice of you to join us!” Abigael cried, one hand clapped over her face, the other trying to wrangle Mel into the bedsheets.

“I thought you said you had it under control!” yelled Macy back. 

“We all make mistakes, including me, however rarely.”

Macy rolled her eyes, shoved out her hands, and clenched them into fists in the general direction of her sister. Mel’s wrists immediately gravitated together as if by magnetic force. Why hadn’t Abigael thought of using telekinesis? As much as she despised admitting it, perhaps her and Macy made a good team sometimes.

“I can’t hold this for long. She’s too strong,” Macy said through gritted teeth.

“Of course she is,” Abigael muttered proudly. “Just give me a moment, I need to think of something.”

“We don’t have a moment!” Macy cried. As if to prove her point, Mel’s hands moved again, right up to her throat. This time, it was Abigael who stopped her. 

Macy was right, Mel was too strong. It took all of Abigael’s willpower to keep her from moving.

“Think of anything yet?” asked Macy, helpful as ever.

“I’m busy, if you hadn’t noticed!” Abigael barked back at her. That moment of inattention was enough for Mel to get her wits about her and activate her powers. Abigael could feel the cold touch of ice on her feet, crawling up to her ankles. “Oh, bloody hell!  _ Stop moving _ !” 

Those words themselves must have aided in her telekinesis, because Mel froze on the spot with a wave of energy so strong that it made her look like she was glitching. Mel’s dark eyes flashed with a dangerous, wild light and she struggled against the power of Abigael’s magic, but she couldn’t move. Abigael would have been proud of herself for keeping such a powerful person immobilized, but she didn’t have the willpower to spare on feelings. 

“If you want to pitch in, now would be a good time!” she growled out at Macy who seemed to be stuck somewhere between smug and panicked. 

“Okay, okay, wait, I know a spell, it went…  _ Dormi cito!”  _ Macy cried, complete with a sharp movement of her hand above her head. 

A second went by, then another, and another. Nothing happened. 

“What was that supposed to do, make me a cocktail?” Abigael growled out. 

“You’re already some kind of cock,” retorted Macy. “It’s a sleeping spell. An Elder used it on me, I… I don’t know why I can’t…”

“If it’s an Elder’s spell, it needs more juice. We do it on three. One. Two. Three!” 

Abigael let go of her hold on Mel, imitating Macy’s incantation and movement. A faded, pinkish light shone from their hands and Mel fell forward, unconscious. Macy caught her and cradled her to her chest, breaths fast and heavy. Abigael watched them for a short moment, trying to convince herself not to speak up. Mel looked like she was dead, and with the way Macy held her, Abigael couldn’t even tell if she was breathing or not. 

“That’s some sleeping spell,” Abigael huffed after a few moments. She tore her eyes away from Mel and looked down to her frozen feet. Too strong indeed. 

“Harry!” Macy yelled. Abigael had just enough time to roll her eyes and start thawing her feet before the familiar ‘whoosh’ of orbing sounded through the room and Harry appeared. 

“What is it? Oh. How is she?” 

“Sleeping,” Macy said softly. “Can you move her to the bed?” 

“Of course, just,” Harry fumbled, leaning down only to straighten back up and try to approach them from a different side, “erm, let me just--”

“Oh, for devil’s sake!” Abigael growled just as the last bit of ice cracked off of her right foot. With a wave of her hand and a frown of concentration on her face, she used her telekinesis to lift Mel’s limp body from Macy’s arms and place her gently onto the bed. 

“Hopefully the spell lasts long enough for her to digest what we gave her,” said Macy, stretching her shoulders and rolling her neck. Abigael nearly let out a laugh at her theatrics, but decided she couldn’t give her the satisfaction. “I think it should last until dusk at least.”

“So more waiting,” sighed Abigael. “Oh, joy.”

Macy took a long look at her snoozing sister, probably thinking about the things she’d said before she passed out. Harry gently took her hand and guided her out of the room, and Abigael sat next to Mel on the bed.

“Hello there, Angry Spice,” she said softly, much more softly than she’d just been talking to Macy, tucking the blankets around her. She startled herself with her own gentleness. “I hope you have a good rest. You deserve it.” Mel only snored in response. Wisps of light began to shine around her like a halo, the magical laxative taking effect. It almost appeared to be bleeding out of her pores.

She looked so helpless and small. Abigael knew very well that Mel could hold her own, and she’d proved that time and time again, but Abigael always had tried her best to protect her anyways. What had happened? 

She’d failed. 

“I’m sorry I drove you to this!” Abigael burst out suddenly. “I was foolish. I thought I could help you by making you see how trapped you were, but I only hurt you more. All of this was my doing.” She knew Mel wouldn’t answer, so she answered for her, putting on a frankly terrible American accent. “ _ Oh, Abi, of course not, you’re too beautiful to make mistakes _ .” Abigael furrowed her eyebrows. “No, and the voice is all wrong. Perhaps it would be more like:  _ you’re damn right it’s your fault. You owe me so many chores,  _ diabla _! _ ” She chuckled to herself. “Yes, that’s it.” Pretending Mel was talking back to her, berating her for messing up, holding her accountable and bossing her around, made her feel a tad bit better, but when the echo of her voice faded, Mel was still asleep and she was still alone. Abigael was starting to think that everything had changed, and that, for better or for worse, it was all her fault.

“Will everything change, Mel?” she asked her still form. She half-hoped for Mel to wake up and speak to her, irrationally, even though it meant she wouldn’t be cured. That was the type of selfish thought that had landed Mel in this mess in the first place, and Abigael felt sick to her stomach even thinking about it. “I know everything has to change eventually. But I believed we had at least a little longer in ignorant bliss. I think we had something good. Don’t you think so? I think we did. We do,” she corrected herself. “Nothing has changed yet.” But hadn’t it? In all honesty, everything was different the instant Abigael let Mel kiss her in the foyer. They had both given up the rights to go back to normal, Mel whilst under the influence, Abigael willingly. Even if Mel decided to distance herself and they never spoke of the kiss again, it would be different.

Abigael placed a gentle hand on Mel’s shoulder. Mel didn’t stir. “I hope something happy comes of all this madness,” she murmured. “I hope when you wake up and everything changes, it’s a good different, not a strange different. And I hope there is nothing you regret too much. I know regret. It eats you alive. I’d never want that for you.” Abigael leaned back against the headboard, her leg pressed against Mel’s warm bicep. She was quite tired from all the mess and scatter of the day. “I’d never forgive myself if harm came to you,” she admitted. “You probably know that by now.” She felt herself drifting off, breathing rising and falling in time with Mel. She could allow herself to take a break now that she knew Mel was safe from harm.

She felt like she should say one last thing before she slept, a closing statement of sorts, but she was too tired to think of anything meaningful, so she let her eyes drift shut.

\-----------

The first thing Mel saw when she woke up was a blob of blurry writing over her dresser, but her eyes couldn’t seem to focus on it. Pen on the wall? Who the hell put that there? She shifted to rub her face and peered closer.

_ Bang Abigael here _ . Complete with an arrow pointing downwards.

Every memory from the past 24 hours flooded over her like a tidal wave, and she groaned and buried her face in her pillow. 

“Good morning- er, night.” Mel jerked and nearly fell off the bed, only barely managing to get her feet under her. She whirled, ready to fight, but it was only Abigael. Oh, thank God. When Mel thought about the way she’d acted when she was on that potion, she’d expected Abigael to turn tail and run. And maybe a year ago she would have, but Abigael had really changed. She was still Abigael, infuriating, cocky, sarcastic, cunning Abigael, but somehow different. Mel had observed it slowly happening, but now the evidence was right there, smack in front of her nose, and she wasn’t sure what to do about it. Her magicked-up self had, though. Mel shivered slightly when she thought about Abigael’s soft lips on hers, her hands all over her body…. and the rush of disappointment that their first kiss had been under circumstances like that.

Then she realized Abigael was staring at her, waiting for a reaction. She seemed shy, skittish. Ready to run at a single word from Mel. Mel wondered what that word might be. “Hi,” she murmured. “Did I really-”

“Whatever you’re going to say, the answer is probably ‘yes, multiple times’,” joked Abigael. She was putting on a brave front, trying to act like her normal self, but Mel was a self-declared expert in reading Abigael, and she was bullshitting. She thought of the things Abigael had said to her, the emotions in her voice when she talked Mel down. Mel had  _ scared _ her. That was nearly impossible to do.

And yet, she’d done it. She. Mel. She’d never thought she would ever scare Abigael, the girl made of danger. She’d never wanted to frighten her. Well, maybe at first, a little bit, just to show her dominance, but she never really wanted Abigael to be afraid of her, or for her. 

But she was. Or had been. It was all very confusing.

“Damn it,” Mel breathed. Her head pounded and her heart fluttered like a hummingbird in her chest. The memories of everything she did, everything she felt while under the potion were rushing through mind, all of them demanding attention, all of them filling her with more and more dread. 

She’d done so many things, so many bad things, it was… she wasn’t a bad person. She wasn’t! She never wanted to hurt anyone. But she did. Take away her responsibility, her moral code, and she had no problem freezing people left and right. She might have even  _ killed _ someone if Abigael hadn’t held her back. She had even punched someone in the face! Granted, it wasn’t the first time, but this guy hadn’t even done anything to deserve it. And then she… she didn’t even ask for consent, she had just kissed Abigael. Forced herself on her. She was no better than those gross dudes who came onto women without asking.

As if sensing her distress, Abigael scooted across the bed and gently took her hands into her own, effectively forcing Mel to only focus on those bright, cattish, hazel eyes. “Hey. Whatever mental gymnastics you’re doing right now, it’s all right. You didn’t hurt anyone. You didn’t hurt a soul.”

“I punched a guy!” Mel cried. She tried to break free from Abigael’s hold, but she was still sleepy and her body felt sore from all of the bouncing around she’d done and Abigael’s grip on her was strong. 

“And he deserved it. Anyone else in your position would have done the same. Hell, I was tempted to do the same before you did it for me.”

“No! That’s not how I treat people. I don’t just punch them when they’re annoying!”

“Thank the gods for that, otherwise you would punch me at least ten times a day,” Abigael tried for a joke, even going as far as grinning slightly. 

“That’s not funny. And you-- I… I forced myself on you! I kissed you without a warning, without consent, I just, I kissed you and that’s not okay because you didn’t want it--”

“Melanie!” 

Mel’s mouth shut with a clack of her teeth, wide eyes staring at Abigael’s face. Only Harry called her Melanie, and even that was when she was being too pushy or when she screwed up too much. She wasn’t even aware that Abigael knew her actual name. 

“Angry Spice, if I didn’t want you to kiss me--” Abigael started pointedly. She let go of Mel’s hand and conjured a fireball, letting the flames dance over her fingers. “--I would have used this. Or my telekinesis. Or I would have just slapped you away. I’m not a damsel in a tower, I would have protected myself. Consent is important, to be sure, but there is no universe in which I wouldn’t let you kiss me.”

Mel’s brow furrowed. “But--”

Abigael sighed. “At first I had to make it seem as if I didn’t want to kiss you, because I wasn’t sure that  _ you _ could give consent. It seems we both had the same problem.”

Somehow, that made Mel feel better. “I’m sorry,” she said. Abigael opened her mouth, but Mel stopped her. “Not about kissing you-- about putting you through all of... that, and for saying those things to you last night. It was unfair of me, and caused nothing but trouble, and I never should have--”

Before Mel could finish, Abigael stood and wrapped her arms around Mel. Mel stiffened. What was going on? She could count on one hand the times Abigael had hugged her. Less than one hand, really. But, even though it was unfamiliar, it felt really nice, and Abigael smelled good. So Mel relaxed into Abigael and clasped her hands behind Abigael, just above her waist. “What’s this for?” Mel asked softly, breath fluttering over the curve of Abigael’s neck.

“Because you needn’t apologize,” murmured Abigael. Mel nearly jumped at how close her voice was, whispering into her ear. “I know people occasionally use a hug as a way to signify that there is no bad blood between the two of them. It was all my idea, I should be the one apologizing. You said something that set me off more than it should have, and I lashed out, trying to harm rather than help. But I…” she swallowed roughly. “I… missed you.”

“I never left,” said Mel confusedly.

“The real you,” Abigael said. Her voice became gravelly like it did when she was emotional and trying not to show it. She let out a short laugh. “The you that infuriates me, not because you’re out of control, but because you’re so in control. The Mel that cares too damn much. The Mel that taught me so many things… the you that taught me to be better.” Abigael dropped her head to Mel’s shoulder, and Mel could feel Abigael’s eyelashes brush against her skin as she closed her eyes. Mel wasn’t much of a hugger, that had always been more Maggie’s forte. She thought that hugs were awkward and she could never figure out what to do or where to put her hands. But hugging Abigael was different somehow. She felt safe. Maybe it was the fact that she knew that Abigael only hugged her when the situation was dire that made the moment feel so intimate. She didn’t know how long they had been standing there, but with Abigael holding her she could have stood there for as long as the Earth was turning.

Eventually Abigael stepped back, but the raw emotion of that hug stayed between them. It felt like… like a secret. Something Abigael wanted to tell her, but couldn’t find the words to say. Mel understood, instinctively. She wondered if Abigael would eventually be able to say it out loud. Mel had always been a woman of action, but Abigael was magical with her words, even without using witchcraft. If Abigael couldn’t express something… well, Mel wouldn’t force her. Maybe with something like this, it was useless to try explaining it at all.

“Thank you,” said Mel finally. “You’ve done… so much for me. Today, and always. I never really say it.”

“Let’s consider ourselves even, then,” Abigael said, smiling softly. Her eyes looked like liquid amber in the dusky light. “Let us owe nothing to each other.”

“That would be nice. If everyone could change each other’s lives, and not owe each other anything,” said Mel.

“Everyone? That’s a lofty goal,” Abigael said, her tone tinted with humor. Mel didn’t feel like she was laughing at her, though. More like they were sharing a joke, just between the two of them. “How about we start with us?”

Mel smiled up at her, and Abigael seemed like she, too, was coming back to herself. She seemed less scared now, like Mel had finally convinced her that she was never leaving again. “And… what about us?” prompted Mel, cautiously. “While I was-- well, you know-- you mentioned that we could… maybe… talk about some stuff.”

“How wonderfully vague,” said Abigael.

“Hey, you’re the talker out of the two of us!” Mel protested, complete with a playful touch to Abigael’s shoulder. “We said we’d talk, so we should.” Her hands curled into fists, then loosened up uselessly. She didn’t know what to do. She wanted to talk, she wanted to say so many things. Or perhaps just one thing in a million different ways. But she didn’t have the words. And how could she when her brain kept going between how beautiful Abigael looked with that soft, sincere expression on her face, and how much she still needed to apologise for? 

“We did. But I already said what I wanted to say,” Abigael said, her voice soft, adorned with the slightest tremble that made Mel’s heart squeeze.

Mel chuckled a little. “Really? You usually have so many things to say.”

“Oh, I have plenty to say,” Abigael grinned. 

“Then talk.”

“Mel.”

Mel shuddered. “Don’t say it like that.”

“Why not?” Abigael questioned with one eyebrow quirked and a smug, knowing smile playing on her lips. 

Biting her lip, Mel considered her options. She could just come clean and hope for the best, or she could try to get Abigael to do the talking for her. But the witch-demon was as stubborn as Mel was, if not more, and after everything that happened in the past twenty-four hours, some things needed to be said. She just wished she had the words to explain. It was time for Mel to get that reckless, brave part of herself to step up. “Because it’s hot when you do,” was all she could think to say.

Abigael’s smile turned into a smirk. “Is that so?”

“I thought I showed you that when I was under the influence,” said Mel. “You felt it.” She wasn’t sure where to go from there. She never was much of a talker. That was why her and Abigael worked. She ran into situations headlong and Abigael smooth-talked her out of trouble, and conversely, when Abigael talked herself into a hole, Mel dove in and dug her a way out. It was just what they did.

“My powers of deduction say you aren’t just talking about your name,” Abigael said. Mel let out a helpless noise. “Come on, now, you’re eloquent when you need to be.”

“No I’m not,” said Mel. “That’s always been my least favorite thing about me. I have-” she gestured to herself. “All this anger, all these things I want, but my words can’t back it up.”

“I didn’t mean with words, Mel.” Mel inhaled sharply again at the way her name sounded on Abigael’s lips. Abigael stepped closer. “ _ Show _ me how you feel. Honestly, no potion, no reservations, no world outside of this room, nothing. Just us. Show me what you  _ want _ to say, but can’t.”

It took a moment for Mel to process Abigael’s words. But once she did, she felt like there was fire running through her veins instead of blood. She looked into Abigael’s eyes, beautiful, full of emotion, so mesmerising. Then her eyes travelled down the slope of Abigael’s nose, cute like a button and yet so proud on her face. Then her lips, so soft, so sweet, so…

Mel nodded a little, shifting closer to Abigael. “Are you sure?” 

Abigael closed the space between them and leaned down a little, gravitating towards her. “Absolutely.”

Mel breathed out, then pulled in a lungful of Abigael’s scent. It brought memories of Abigael’s lips on her own, of Abigael’s hands on her body. Her mouth was nearly watering. She wanted her.

But she didn’t  _ just _ want her body, like her dark, twisted self had whispered to her. She wanted everything else, too. She wanted the late nights, the car rides, the stupid jokes, the holidays and the family dinners; the fights, the hurts, the heartache, but the making up and forgiveness and always coming back, too. She wanted the messy middles and the happy endings. 

She gently dragged her nose down the side of Abigael’s jaw first, giving her a way out should she want it, should she not want all that Mel did. Abigael, however, only placed her hands on Mel’s arms and pulled her tightly to herself. It was reassuring, Mel thought, grounding. Abigael was telling her she didn’t need to worry about anything but the two of them.

Mel moved up, tracing the skin of Abigael’s cheek, around the corner of her mouth, back up to her nose. Abigael let out a chuckle, the warm breath of it tickled Mel’s lips and made her giggle in response. They laughed quietly, softly, just for a second. It was absurd what they were doing. Crazy of them to try this in the upside-down magical world they lived in. Mel knew that from experience. 

And then Mel’s lips pressed against Abigael's seemingly of their own accord, like her body couldn’t stand another second without Abigael. 

Memories of their previous kisses flashed through Mel’s mind. Raw and fast, powerful, scary. A warzone, a free-for-all. Dark passion that threatened to overtake them both and swallow them whole. This was nothing like those kisses. This was… a soft song carried on a warm breeze. A gentle touch of the sun after a long winter. It was relief and light and laughter. The other kisses were all solidly grounded in the present, while this kiss dreamed of a beautiful future.

Mel’s hands cupped Abigael’s cheeks, Abigael’s hands locked behind Mel’s neck. They didn’t push, they didn’t pull. This wasn’t a battle. They were just together, enjoying the softest pressure against their lips, the warmth of their bodies, the closeness of the one they cared about. 

When they parted, they didn’t pull away, not yet. They stood there, in the middle of Mel’s messy room with the earthy scent of the antidote in the air and those stupid scribbles on the walls, with Mel’s sisters somewhere in the house, with Harry sipping tea and Jordan at home studying, with demons fighting witches fighting demons, with the world still spinning after Mel’s rampage, even after kissing Abigael. 

Mel let out a small laugh at that. Of course the world would keep spinning. This between them, it wasn’t something that could change destiny or overturn fate. Maybe it  _ was _ fate, just sweeping them along for the ride. Either way, it was just… them. Just like they had always been, how it felt like it had been forever: them together, just there for each other. Safe. Like home.

“That was nice,” Mel whispered, still so close that her lips brushed against Abigael’s with every movement. 

“Indeed. I wouldn’t mind doing it again,” Abigael agreed. She suddenly looked a little bit shy. “Preferably after dinner and a film…?”

“Is that you asking me out?” 

“I suppose it is. Although, it should be you asking me out.”

Mel frowned, pulling back a little. “Why?”

Abigael’s eyes sparkled with mischief as she cocked her head in the direction of the dresser, where over it the words  _ bang Abigael here _ were still marked, bold and proud. “It seems you’ve had your own agenda all along.”

Mel’s only response was an embarrassed groan that quickly dissolved into laughter.

\-----------

“Can you hear anything?” muttered Macy to Maggie, who was standing with her ear pressed to the door of Mel’s room.

“Not if you keep asking me,” Maggie hissed back. She continued listening intently. “I can’t freaking believe Mel’s talking quietly. The one time in her entire life that I  _ don’t _ want her to.”

Harry wrung his hands together behind them. “Ladies, I don’t think we should--”

Macy and Maggie shushed him in two-part harmony. “I don’t trust her in there with the She-Devil,” said Macy pointedly. “She’s probably corrupting her already. Case in point, how are they talking so civilly after what just happened?”

Maggie moved back from the door to stare at Macy incredulously. Even Harry looked dumbfounded. Well, more dumbfounded than he normally looked.

“Wait, the whole  _ we hate Abi _ thing isn’t a joke?” Maggie said. “You really haven’t been around much recently, I guess.”

Macy glared at her. “No way are we friends with the demon now.”

“She’s actually changed a lot.”

“I tried to tell you, love,” offered Harry gently. “You wouldn’t listen.”

Macy sighed dramatically. “Wow. Okay, so we don’t hate her. Fine, I can live with that,” she said. “But Mel seems cozier than that.”

“You really don’t get it, do you?” Maggie questioned. “This can’t just be because I’m an empath.” She glanced at Harry for backup, and he shook his head.

“What is?” Macy’s eyes darted from her sister to her boyfriend and back again.

“Macy, Mel  _ loves _ Abi.” Macy’s jaw dropped. “And if today is any indication, Abi loves Mel right back,” said Maggie, smiling goofily. She couldn’t help it. She just loved love. Especially the kind that made her big sister so happy.

“What is that supposed to mean?” said Macy. “I mean, even if Abigael has changed like you said, she’s still a demon.”

“Half,” argued Maggie. “And you’re half too, Macy. Can’t you love?”   
  


Macy sputtered. “That’s completely different.”

“How?” said Maggie patiently. Macy couldn’t seem to find the answer to this. “They’re really happy, Macy.”

“No, but-- you have to be wrong. Look, I bet they’re arguing now. They can’t possibly--” Macy cracked the door as far as she dared, expecting to see... something bad. Fighting, or silence, or anything but what she actually saw. 

They were standing together, Abigael’s hands loosely draped around Mel’s waist, Mel’s hands resting against Abigael’s collarbones. She couldn’t see Abigael’s face, but Mel’s was flushed, her eyes bright, and her smile intoxicated. Macy had never seen her look at a person that way before. Was she… happy? Was this really the happiest she’d ever been? With  _ Abigael _ ?

And then, just when Macy thought it couldn’t get any more cavity-inducingly cute, Abigael murmured something that might have been a joke and Mel let out a burst of laughter, leaning forward to bury her head in Abigael’s shoulder. As she fell forward, Abigael half-spun her, revealing the side of her face. Macy realized she had never really seen Abigael smile. She’d smirked, or sneered, but never smiled. Against all her better instincts, she began to wonder if maybe they were good for each other. Maybe they could help each other grow. 

Nodding to herself, Macy shut the door quietly and walked away to the amazement of her sister and boyfriend. They’ve been through hell as it was, she owed it to Mel to let her deal with things on her own. 

“C’mon, Mags. We’ve got some chores to do.”

**Author's Note:**

> jordy (wonderwall)  
> tumblr: transmazikeen  
> instagram: evechloes
> 
> cat  
> tumblr: justalittlewritingnerd  
> twitter: cathrinecblack  
> instagram: cat.c.black
> 
> from jordy: thank you for reading and, as always, authors thrive off of comments, so if you'd like to leave one, that would make our day!!
> 
> from cat: i hate you all, hoomans!


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